


Aria of the Aeons

by kittengriffin (Shadaras)



Series: Guardians (The Sunlight Saga) [7]
Category: Neopets
Genre: F/M, Fusion, Magic, War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-01-28
Updated: 2011-01-28
Packaged: 2021-03-02 17:06:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 21
Words: 32,583
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24040285
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shadaras/pseuds/kittengriffin
Summary: It's time to take back Neopia, and bring Balance back to the world.
Series: Guardians (The Sunlight Saga) [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1716496





	1. Prelude: Chronicler's Eyes

**Author's Note:**

> I'm honestly not sure if this is the same version that got into the NT or not; my notes aren't good enough for that. But it's a version, and I think it's the right balance between Helpful Editing and Toning Down Violence and Religion To Get In.
> 
> (But this prelude was never in the NT. It's too religious for that.)

In the beginning, there was time. I came into existence then, and with me came memory. Nothing had form or shape. Not yet. But as I looked across the threads of time, space came into existence, change following on its heels. In that moment, I had form. No set form, you see, but simply my own form. I was everything. I was nothing. The smallest atom, the entirety of the universe – I could be anything I chose.

With that delight came the wish for companions to share my love of the universe with. Order and Chaos came into existence: Light and Darkness followed them, carrying emotion and death on their heels. But we, and the child Balance who had come before Death, were immortal. All the elements came, then. Stars and suns and planets made of metal, stone, and water. Air to bring life to the worlds that were created. Snow and lava. All the merging elements created a place that none of us knew.

We descended onto that world, my companions and I. We created life wherever we passed, shaping it into whatever form pleased us at the time. Trees, fish, birds, insects – we created it all.

That first world was simply a place to practice our skills, but it was the second world that we constructed to be a place for true life, life that could think and laugh and play, life like ourselves. That world held a touch of everything: mountains covered with snow, deep oceans, endless plains, forests of life and of death, volcanoes both active and dormant, burning deserts, and so much that I cannot remember now.

Is it odd that I, who brought memory into existence, cannot remember the birth of this world you live on? Perhaps it is, but I think not. For, not long after we created this world and the senseless animals that inhabit it, Order and Chaos argued. They brought battle into existence then, and Balance, trying to protect them from themselves, brought loyalty and guardianship.

I ran from them.

I feel no shame in admitting that. It is part of who I am that I cannot abide disagreements. Perhaps it is because I am tied to time and memory, so strongly that I can see repercussions for actions before the actions themselves happen. It is because of that ability that I ran, using a tie to space and change to bring myself to a place none of the others knew about.

I felt their shattering, not long after. The twelve pieces of magic that they were tied to, four for each, stayed on that world. I knew that there was a being for each of those pieces, and I brought myself back to the world to find the shape each took. It was then that I fashioned the thinking beings of your planet, the Lupes and Kyrii and Kougras and Unis and so many other things.

But not the Fae. Never the Fae. Those beings were formed from the shattering. Those beings are tied so strongly to magic that they tap it unconsciously. I built the beings I created so that they could touch magic, but I feared what would happen if they had the unconscious control of the Fae. That choice shaped the world into what it is today. I found the scattered pieces of my friends, my children, and I have spent aeons guiding them back to life.

Now, they will be rejoined. One hundred years after Order had all of his pieces, they will join. One hundred years of order’s reign have created a world where balance will flourish.

I like to think that my children will appreciate what I’ve done for them, but, somehow, I doubt they will.


	2. Reveille

His dreamscape is filled with color, a collection of rainbow shapes that no other would be able to understand. Green and brown shape the ground, with gray occasionally sprouting irregular forms. Bronze shapes woven with white grow out of the green-brown, and green-gold blobs halo the white threads. Above him, pale peach and silver float through a cerulean sky in half-seen wisps. Red and yellow and purple and all the other colors scintillate through the silver, creating a glow that the Eyrie basks in.

In the midst of the chaos, he himself is a dark form, a black blotch that absorbs everything around him and sends it out once more. His eyes are closed, but he does not need them to see; his father taught him the art of mage-sight long ago, when the Eyrie was nothing more than a blind child desperately dreaming of sight.

Even now, twelve years after his father’s disappearance, the Eyrie can still remember the colors and feelings that marked him. Black and white, pure colors that almost no thinking beings had, shining with radiant gold and silver. The Eyrie shakes his head, dismissing the shape in front of him. His father is gone, and his father never dream-walked. And yet, the feelings that the form in front of him brought could belong to no other. “Father?” the Eyrie whispers.

The Lupe smiles. “Hello, Invidere. I’ve missed you.”

Invidere laughs, running forward to hug the Lupe. “I’ve missed you, Father,” he says first, holding his father as tightly as he dares. His father’s arms are as strong as ever, squeezing him almost painfully. Then, after a moment of hesitating, Invidere asks, “Why did you erase their memories, Father? It was strange, not being able to talk about you.”

With a sigh, the Lupe releases his hold to run a hand through Invidere’s mane. “I had other duties, Invidere. I’m sorry. I wish I’d been able to be with you longer.”

“Where did you go?” Invidere asks as he settles down to lean against the Lupe’s side. “Not even the gypsies knew where you were.”

“Shenkuu.” The Lupe sits down, hands still stroking the Eyrie. “I had to watch over two other children. One reminded me of Az. The other, of Coru.”

“Have you ever found someone who reminds you of me, Father?”

“I don’t—” The Lupe closes his eyes. “In a way. But you are the only blind Dreamer.”

“Why didn’t you tell me about Dreamers?” Invidere asks, twisting to look straight at his father. “Why’d you let Keben explain it all?”

“Because of what Dreaming is.” The Lupe’s head falls to rest on Invidere’s. “It’s my power, Invi. I gave it to you. To Keben. To Iceriel. To all the others I had to curse with knowledge of the future.”

“You? Curse? Father, what—”

“Invi—” He cuts himself off with a sigh. “You’ll understand soon enough.” He straightens, and the colors around him grow brighter and more intense. “That isn’t why I came. Keben was trying to reach you. I blocked him, but I told him I’d pass the message on.” He chuckles. “I don’t think he believed me.”

“What did he say?”

“That it is time for you to come home.” The Lupe stands, taking all warmth with him. “I’ll meet you there, my child. Farewell.”

“Wait!” Invidere reaches for his father’s black and white aura, but his hand simply passes through smoke and disrupts the cloud. He turns away, closing his eyes. The chaotic beauty of the dreamscape holds nothing more for him now. With a thought, Invidere wakes himself, opening blind eyes to the cave he lives in. There is nothing in it but bare stone and a thin layer of dirt and dust to soften the ground.

Shaking his head to dismiss the mists of the dream-world, Invidere stalked to the cave’s edge and looked over the cliff. Few beings even knew his cave existed. Fewer wished to visit. Even Azimuth’s visits were brought about by a wish for knowledge, not a wish to see him. Invidere smiled. He liked it this way. The black Draik could have his metal toys, but he had something far more precious: Solitude.

Invidere spread his wings and leapt off the cliff. The wind caught him easily on its gentle silver-tinged threads of blue. The colors reminded him of Keben, and the Eyrie laughed, letting the wind carrying him closer to civilization and Azimuth’s home. He knew, without any doubt, that his father had passed on Keben’s message accurately; Keben had been talking about how the Traitor Republic was nearly ready to attack Central for weeks now. If it was time to come home, time to return to the future, then a time for the assault had been set.

He flew towards the silver and red area that marked Azimuth’s lair, diving closer to the earth. Virtupets colors, Azimuth had said long ago, when Invidere told him what he saw. According to Azimuth, it made sense. Invidere simply thought that the lair was trying to warn anyone who could see energy to avoid it. All the explosions bled into the aura of metal, and the metal guarded the lair from outside influence, more often than not.

Invidere landed, feet firm on the gray-brown ground. Stepping to the entrance of Azimuth’s lair, he hesitated. Memories of their father were flooding back now, memories that even he had forgotten. Their father had taught them both how to talk telepathically, once. Perhaps...

Closing his eyes to the auras that danced around him, Invidere focused on Azimuth. Silver-gray like the metal he loved. Energy in the form of fire or electricity, flickering and ready to burn those who were not careful. Laughter and a mocking voice. Steady hands and powerful muscles. And the pure white light that changed him into the Drake.

The last color-image brought Invidere’s mind into a lock with Azimuth. Before the Draik had time to resist, or even wonder what was going on, Invidere thought-spoke. _We’re going back to them._

A flurry of confused thoughts and images bombarded Invidere, but the loudest was _‘You used a contraction?’_ Invidere laughed, breaking the connection with a thought. Azimuth was coming outside. That intent had been quite strong, most likely because Azimuth wished to know what Invidere had done. Smiling, Invidere waited just outside of the lair.

“What did you do?” Azimuth stormed out of the entrance, blazing red and blue. “You—” He stopped abruptly, voice becoming deceptively calm and gentle. “Invidere, why didn’t you tell us who Dad was?”

“Because neither of you believed me when I first spoke of it.” Invidere shrugged. “Will you help me get Coruscatus or not?”

“Invi—”

“Will you?” Invidere narrowed his blind eyes, glaring at Azimuth. “Or shall I leave you behind?”

“You wouldn’t dare.”

“Are you sure?”

“May the Sleeper wake in your blasted dreams.” Azimuth’s aura exploded, blue and red nearly turning white, but his voice was a whisper. “I’ll come.”

Invidere nodded, turning towards Coruscatus’s forest home.

“Why didn’t we believe you?”

“About Father?” Invidere spread his wings and launched himself into the sky, trusting his brother to follow. “Because he wiped your memories. I do not know how or why he did it, just that he did.”

“When was this?” Azimuth asked, voice close behind him.

“Twelve years ago.” Invidere spoke curtly, ignoring the tears in his eyes as he flew ever-higher. “I was nine, you were eleven, and Coruscatus was sixteen.”

“And you’re the only one who remembers?”

Invidere ignored Azimuth’s disbelief. “Father didn’t tell me why that was. I think it was because he knew I wouldn’t tell, or something. And he went to Shenkuu because of some duties he had. I don’t know what, other than that it involved two children that reminded him of you and Coruscatus.”

Azimuth snorted, but didn’t reply.

The rest of the flight was spent in silence, with only the wind and the birds to break it. As Invidere dove into the forest once more, the birds alarmed, scattering. Invidere smiled at that, flaring his wings to bring him to a halt just above the ground. “Coruscatus,” he said calmly, looking towards the earth-colored aura marking his brother. “We’re going back to the future.”

“You’re using contractions.” The Kougra shook his head, gold making his aura more obvious. “Why?”

“Is that odd?”

“Yes,” Azimuth and Coruscatus chorused.

Invidere sighed, trying to reconcile the memories of dreams and the past with how things were here. “Father— No, Keben broke me of that habit last year.”

Before either of them could ask about the how or the why, he touched the pendant with his mind, harnessing the magic within it, calling out to the power that had taken them to the future the first time.

 _Sollumin._ The word echoed with power, and, as it drew them into its hold, golden light bathed everything around him, drenching him in sunlight and warmth. The pendant against his chest was as cold as ice, a stark contrast to the warmth around him, but Invidere kept it in his hands, willing it to bring Azimuth and Coruscatus with him.

The sunlight disappeared, along with the echoing word, and Invidere breathed in. The sweet scent of clouds filled his nose, and Invidere looked around, almost desperate to find the aura he was looking for. Lightning-touched blue and silver, cool and calm and quiet, and outbursts of laughter that made the whole world swell with joy. Invidere knew he was nearby, but not precisely where he was until he spoke.

“He did pass it on,” a light voice said. “I must admit, I’m surprised.”

Invidere laughed, turning to face Keben. “Father does his best not to lie.”

Electricity sparkled, coating Keben’s aura in shock. “Your— What?”

“Agreed,” Coruscatus said. “What do you mean, Dad passed a message on?”

Invidere sighed and started walking towards the palace. “Keben and I are Dreamers. You agree with that, yes?” He did not wait for responses before continuing. “We’ve been talking regularly ever since we parted. Last night, Keben tried to contact me. Father intercepted the message and then gave it to me. And yes, Keben. He’s my father. We’ll talk about it later.”

Silence fell as they walked towards the palace. Invidere could tell that everyone wanted to question him more on something, though whether about Father, dreaming, or simply the reason why he had only now brought them back to the Traitor Republic, he could not tell. But Invidere could sense all the people around them, the ordinary people of the Republic, and knew that they were staring. He was not surprised. Their heroes had returned. Invidere suppressed a smile. If Keben had doubted his message would be passed on, then nobody else knew that they were here.

They reached the palace gates, and as soon as they entered, Invidere felt the flurry of fire and wind that marked Setia. He laughed aloud, hearing Keben stumble back as the Xweetok rammed into him.

“You didn’t tell us they were coming!” Setia’s voice was accusatory, and Invidere could easily feel the force of the energy the Xweetok was directing at Keben.

“I didn’t know for sure until they arrived, Set.” Keben said, prying Setia off of him. “Would you rather I get your hopes up for nothing? And you get to deal with Az and Coru now. I’m taking Invidere.”

Setia didn’t argue. Invidere was rather impressed by that, but he did not comment. He simply followed Keben, amused by the seething storm that Keben’s aura had become. The silence continued until Keben stopped in a grove that smelled of earth and life. Invidere drew a deep breath of the dusty air, so much like Coruscatus’s home.

Keben turned to face him. “Tell me, Invidere,” he said softly, veiled anger in his aura and voice. “How is the Chronicler your dad?”


	3. Revelations

“The Chronicler?” Invidere sputtered. “Father’s the Chronicler?”

“Spotted Lupe, incredibly annoying attitude, knows far more than he should, teleports, probably messes with time...” Keben raised his eyebrows. “Does that sound about right?”

Invidere’s tail lashed back and forth, and Keben could hear the black Eyrie’s agitation. “I don’t know what color he is to you. How could I? I don’t think he’s annoying. Yes, he knows more than most people do, but I don’t know about teleportation and time.” Invidere shook his head, dusk-blue eyes meeting Keben’s. “What do you expect, Keben? He disappeared when I was nine years old. Went to Shenkuu, apparently. He wiped my brothers’ memories. Azimuth remembers some of it now. Coruscatus doesn’t, however. Don’t bother questioning them.”

Running a hand through his hair, Keben paced across the grove, tapping his fingers on the trees. “Invi, your father is the Chronicler. Remember our trip through the desert last year? He came and talked to me then.”

“He’s alive?”

“How else would I know about him?” Keben snapped, facing Invidere once more. “He told me about Central. Asked me about Dreaming.”

“He called Dreaming a curse,” Invidere said softly. “And he said that he gave it to us. What do you think that means?”

“I have no idea.” Keben sighed and leaned against a tree with bark as white as he was. “Look, Invi, I’m probably just as clueless as you are about who – or what – your father is. Do you remember his name?”

Invidere shook his head wordlessly.

“How nice. Now we don’t even have the luxury of a name to call him.”

“You know, I’d love it if people stopped underestimating me.”

Keben whirled around. He recognized the voice, even if he’d only heard it once, and that a year ago.

The Chronicler raised an eyebrow, a smile on his black, brown, and orange face. “Come, now. You really expect me to be elsewhere when there’s such a wonderful argument about me going on?”

“Who the hell are you?” Keben demanded, glaring at the Lupe. “You’re a Dreamer, a time-traveler, you act like a prophet – what else?”

“You will understand soon enough.” The Chronicler’s silvery eyes dimmed. “I don’t think you want to know the price of that understanding, however.”

“What is the price, Father?”

“Too much, in some ways.” The Lupe looked down, brushing his red and gold robes. “But it’s necessary. Everything shattered. I just want to put it together again.”

Keben scowled. “Meaning what?”

“Meaning you’ll understand later.” The Chronicler smiled briefly. “My name is Fideus. Goodbye for now.”

“Wait!”

Fideus laughed, silver-gray light gathering around his body. “Too late for any regrets, Keben. It’s time to live with the choices you’ve made.” The light covered him, making it impossible to see the spotted Lupe’s body. “Valentine said that, the day he made the plan for Shenkuu’s final stand. And now, for now, goodbye.” A flash of light filled the grove, blinding Keben. When the spots cleared from his eyes, Fideus was gone.

“Interesting,” Invidere said, looking at the spot where his father had disappeared. “That’s the same thing that happens when I use the pendant.”

“Maybe he powers the pendant,” Keben muttered, rubbing his eyes. “Maybe he’s the one who gave it to the gypsies. Maybe he’s the one who set Sloth up to conquer the world.”

“Explain your reasoning for that last bit, please.”

“Last time I met your father, in the desert, he said something about knowing Sloth.” Keben shrugged, looking back at Invidere. “Actually, he said that Sloth wouldn’t talk to him anymore. And then he said that I could hear something I shouldn’t be able to hear. Was he always like that?”

“Like what?” The black Eyrie shrugged, blue eyes bright. “He often went off on tangents, usually took a long time to answer questions, and preferred we figure things out for ourselves, if that’s what you mean.”

Keben shook his head. “Not exactly what I meant, but close enough.” He hesitated a moment, then continued. “I want to show you something.”

“What sort of something?”

“The sort of something I couldn’t show you through Dreaming.” Keben grinned, heading toward the palace. “Vesper’s journals, including one he wrote about his memories of how Shenkuu was destroyed.”

“And why couldn’t you show me this in dreams?”

“Because I’m horrible at memorizing books,” Keben said absently, ducking inside a servants’ entrance. “And I forgot about it after a while.”

Invidere fell silent. Keben smiled softly. He preferred silence, most of the time. It was so unlike what he was usually around that he considered it a blessing to have silence when he wasn’t either in the library or in his room. In the rare times he and Sayang were alone together – which happened perhaps once a week, when she was in Faerieland – they could be silent, but it was more likely for them to be talking about what they would do when the war ended.

He ignored everyone they passed by; they were used to him doing his best to slip past unobserved, anyway. Oh, Keben knew he’d need to go talk to Proteus eventually, but if he could put that off until after he’d shown Invidere and Az the journals, he would. And he could put it off easily, if what he suspected was true. Reaching his room, Keben opened the door, closing it firmly behind Invidere.

“I have a copy of the journals here,” he said quietly. “Some people act as if they’re required reading for members of the Republic, but they’re not.” He glanced at Invidere. “You can’t read, can you? I know you can do a lot of tricks with that sight of yours, but...”

“Reading isn’t one of them.” Invidere shrugged. “It never before mattered; there weren’t many books were we lived.”

Keben nodded. “I’ll read you the relevant parts.” He’d marked the page earlier, and opened the journal. “Vesper writes, ‘The end of the battle for Shenkuu City would have been the bloodiest battle I’d ever seen, if the opponents had been made of flesh and bone rather than metal and wiring. I do not remember how I lasted through the battle. It’s a blur of cutting and parrying. But the end – oh, the end I remember far too clearly.

“‘The Shenkuuri were backed up against a gate. Cassie flew down into the middle of the robots. She looked like a shadow within white fire, moving with greater speed than even I had ever seen her use before. Her blade never stopped. Val, fighting beside me, asked me to help him get to her. I obeyed him.’”

“Val got to her, yes, but not long after, the spaceships came. And she spoke the words I use to activate the pendant.”

Keben looked up at Invidere, unsure whether he was more surprised by his words or his eyes, which were a shining silver-blue rather than the deep blue of dusk.

“I remember it,” the Eyrie said softly.

“Invi—”

“I took hold of sunlight. I used the gift presented to me. There was no other way out, Vesper.”

Keben stared at the Eyrie. Invidere’s mannerisms had changed completely. He wasn’t speaking like himself. He was speaking like—

“I’m sorry I didn’t bring you with me. I tried. Sunlight knows I tried. But she told me that you had a different fate.” Invidere smiled. “I know what that destiny is now, I guess, but I didn’t know it then. I didn’t understand the why of it then, at least.”

“Cassie?” Keben said, trying to understand.

“Who else?” A pause. “Ah. I see. Welcome to chaos, Keben. It’s time to start having fun.” The silver cast in Invidere’s eyes faded. He remained standing for perhaps a second longer before he fell limply to the ground.

Keben stared at the Eyrie. “And what exactly am I supposed to think of that?” he asked, not directing the question towards anyone in particular. Setting the journal down the table, Keben sat on his bed, staring at the black lump of feathers and fur. “Why am I the one who gets all the hard problems?” he said, resigned. “I mean, Set’s so good at supply and the like that it’s practically a game for her. And Sayang loves the tactical problems. But I get stuff like this.”

He paused. “Oh. Blast it.” Pushing off of the bed, Keben knelt next to Invidere. Setting gentle fingers on Invidere’s head, pure white against the black, Keben closed his eyes. “Please work,” he muttered, using his fingers as a path from his mind to the Eyrie’s. The colors of shadows and vivid light filled his eyes, and Keben let them flow by, searching for a place where the colors all originated from. He could see the oddity of Cassiel’s mind within Invidere’s; shapes and colors unfamiliar to him marked the Draik within.

Diving into the thickest part of the colors he knew, Keben almost swam through the sensations. He didn’t want to invade Invidere’s privacy, but he needed Invidere to be awake before anyone came by. Strangest of the sensations that he felt as he found the shining core of Invidere’s mind was that of love; pure, untainted love for the chaotic sensations that filled his life. It was nothing like the love Invidere held for anything else. Keben had felt that other love; it was quieter, restrained, and felt like a joke compared to this.

He didn’t touch the black and silver globe that was _Invi_. He knew better than that. He simply focused, returning consciousness to Invidere’s body. As he felt the Eyrie’s mind reawaken, Keben pulled back to his own body. His eyes opened at the same moment as Invidere’s.

“Explain to me what that was,” Invidere said, his voice rough and dry. “It was not normal in any sense of the word.”

Keben sat back, running a hand through his hair. “That’s the thing. I have no idea. What do you remember of it, anyway?”

“You were explaining what Vesper had written, and then...” Invidere closed his eyes again. “I knew it all, Cian. In one burst, I knew the story, but not from Vesper’s perspective.”

“From Cassie’s.” Keben shook his head. “And then she took over you. And once she realized that she wasn’t where – or when – she thought she was, you collapsed. I woke you up.”

“Why?”

“Why’d I wake you up?” Keben smiled crookedly. “Sayang’s almost certainly going to bring Az here, and I really didn’t want to try and explain what had just happened.”

Invidere didn’t reply. Keben sighed, going over to his bookcase. He may as well start trying to figure out how exactly bodily possession worked, especially when the people in question had never before met.


	4. Revel

Az watched Keben and Invi leave, more than a little irritated. Invi could’ve explained about Father to all of them at the same time instead of running off with that blasted Zafara. It would’ve made it more fun. He suspected that they had other reasons for leaving everyone else behind, but he couldn’t know for sure. And that bothered him more than anything else.

Set’s voice broke him out of his thoughts. “Guess where Sayang is.”

“With the army.” Az glanced at the blue Xweetok, grinning. “Where’s the army?”

“Check that area where you kept being swarmed last year.” Set turned to Coru. “I’ll take you to Proteus now, Coru. C’mon.” Set darted off, the brown Kougra following her at a more reasonable speed.

Az rolled his eyes, taking off. At least she’d chosen a landmark he recognized. He’d figured out where that plaza was relative to the palace last year, and he’d somehow managed to remember it. It’d become the unofficial meeting point for the army, though he had no idea why. While he was there, he’d gotten swarmed and asked about how he’d transformed in the battle. And they had never given up asking him, even after he’d told them a hundred times that he had no idea. It had amused Sayang and irritated him to no end.

Even now, flying over the pastel buildings of Faerieland a year later, he found his way there without really trying. His body remembered they way, at least. The plaza lay below him now, and he could see the troops there training. Finding Sayang was a bit of a challenge, since she dressed like all the other troops did, and was a ‘simple’ red Kyrii. There were several red Kyrii in the squads training. But when he found her, standing in the middle of the four squads, directing them, he grinned.

Diving, he landed nearby, and walked towards the plaza. On the edge, a green Eyrie saw him and stared at him in shock. Az raised a hand to Damian, smiling, and put a finger to his lips. Damian nodded. He wouldn’t warn Sayang. Casually walking up behind Sayang, Az watched her. Her red hair, kept out of her face with a ponytail and some goggles of her own, traced her every move. And when he stepped up behind her and put his hands on her shoulders, she started whirling, trying to punch him.

Before she could see him, he spoke, grinning like an idiot. “Hey. I’m back.” He released her shoulders, letting her finish turning. The look of shock on her face made all of it worth it. She hugged him almost to tightly for him to breathe, not saying anything. Az just laughed, watching as the squads slowly realized who he was. Azimuth the Drake had returned. None of them approached him. In fact, some of the closer soldiers backed away a few paces. Az shook his head, smirking. He wouldn’t do anything to them. Sayang might, though. It’d suit her.

When she finally looked up, she was smiling. “Keben didn’t say anything about you coming back,” she said. “Did he bribe you or something?”

Az hugged her again, grinning. “No, but we had to force Coru to come along. Invi woke me up. That’s how early it was when he got Keben’s message.”

Sayang laughed, stepping away from him and raising her voice. “What say we demonstrate what real fighting is to this lot?”

“What’s your idea?” Az asked, matching his tone to her slightly mocking one. “Me unarmed, against you with a weapon? Or would that not be fair?”

“Only if you stay as you are. I don’t want to fight the Drake.”

Az nodded. “Melee weapon, please?”

“Laser and two daggers.” Sayang pulled out her laser, holding it casually. Az stepped back. “I won’t kill you. Might hurt, though. But it’ll be good for them to watch you.” Glancing around, she shook her head. “Clear to the sides, idiots! You don’t want to get in our way!”

Everyone scattered, moving off to the edges. Az watched, amused. “Any other rules?”

“Other than the obvious?” Sayang shrugged. “I can’t think of any.”

“So be it.” Az grinned. “You’re going to lose, you realize.”

“Of course. But it’ll be a good fight.” Sayang checked the plaza. “Now move off. We’ll start on opposite sides.”

“Leo will call the start?” Az asked, backing up.

Sayang nodded, retreating. At the edge, Az closed his eyes and breathed slowly, calming himself. Even if it was just a demonstration, they’d be going after each other with everything they had. Except that he wouldn’t be the Drake. He didn’t want to transform, anyway, so that worked out. Opening his eyes, he nodded. He was ready.

“Begin.”

At Leo’s voice, they both moved. Az was faster than Sayang, normally, but the need to dodge kept him from getting to her for long enough for her to shoot at him. She was only using one laser, which made it easier, but she still had the daggers, one of which was in her other hand. Laugher bubbled out of him as he rolled and leaped, dodging each shot before she fired. He knew the way she moved, though he couldn’t say how.

He planned to be right next to her before she caught on to his pattern, though. But no. The next time he leapt, spreading his wings just enough to keep himself above her shot, she changed the angle of her laser at the last second. It wasn’t enough to hit his body, but the wing she hit collapsed. Az hissed at the pain, landing and rolling, coming up in a run. His wing would be fine; the laser was set low enough so that most of its damage was shock value. He would keep his wings out of the remainder of the fight, however; in a real battle his wing would be useless. He was close enough now for it not to matter, anyway. He charged her.

She knew that it was pointless to try and shoot again, from how she put the laser back in its holster. Now she held two daggers. They weren’t blunted. But then, neither were his claws. Grinning, Az leapt at her. She dodged, of course, but as he landed, Az turned, rebounding back at her. His momentum carried them to the ground, Az taking her hands and pulling them to the sides.

“My win,” he said. He was lying fully on her, and in a real battle, he would be able to bite her throat or roast her head before she freed her hands. “Unless you have some secret weapon I don’t know about.”

Sayang shook her head. “Your win.”

As he stood, Az pulled the Kyrii up. From the looks of shock on the squads’ faces, most of them hadn’t seen him fight before. Probably they hadn’t seen their wondrous leader defeated so easily before, just to add to the fun. Damian, on the other hand, was just grinning and probably telling everyone around him about how Az had been his squad leader in the battle for Faerieland. They’d probably heard the story before, of course, but it’d probably sound less like an exaggeration now.

“Do they seriously not understand how that worked?” Az asked, looking around.

“They’ll understand once the shock wears off.”

“But. It’s easy to do that.”

“For you.” Sayang sighed, grabbing his arm. “C’mon. We’ve given them enough of a show, and there’s something I want to show you.”

Az nodded. “Are they going to keep training?” he asked, following Sayang.

“If Damian stops telling stories.” She shrugged. “Leo will help with that. It doesn’t matter too much. We can quiz them about why you won that fight tomorrow.”

“You ran when I leapt at you.” Sayang hit him. Grinning, Az continued. “In a real fight, you could’ve stood your ground and let the enemy impale themselves. But here, where we aren’t trying to kill each other, you had to move. But you could’ve just sidestepped, so I wouldn’t have realized that I was going to miss quite so soon. I wouldn’t have been able to turn in midair, then, so you would’ve had a chance.”

“Not much of one, against you.” Sayang shook her head. “We need more people who know how to fight like you. Meaning, who know how to fight in a melee,” she added. “And shut up about how I could’ve beaten you, by the way. It’s annoying.”

“Sorry.”

“You aren’t, and you know it.”

“True. But it’s the thought that counts, right?”

“Sometimes.”

Az sighed. “What’re you going to show me, anyway?”

“It’s a secret.” Sayang smiled. “It relates to you, and to the Drake.”

Az stopped dead.

“Yeah, the Drake who they named you after.” Sayang shrugged, continuing to walk. “It’s not that big a deal, once you get over the initial shock. Keben...” Sayang hesitated. “Keben wanted to show it to you. He only realized he had to once you left.”

“What is it?” Az asked, irritated. He caught up to her easily enough, tail lashing.

Sayang glanced at him, shaking her head. “I promised Keben he could tell you what it was. He never said I couldn’t give you the gist of it all, though.”

“So tell me.”

“You’re always so impatient.” She sighed. “Shouldn’t you have realized that isn’t always the best way to approach the world by now?”

He grabbed her shoulder. “Tell me.”

“Ask nicely, and I’ll consider it. There’s only so much I can tell you, anyway.”

Az met her eyes, desperate for no reason he could articulate. “Please, Sayang. I need to know now.”

“You have a right to the knowledge, too.” Sayang closed her eyes. “More of a right than we have, at least.”

“You aren’t telling me.” Az took her by the shoulders and shook her, grip hard enough so that he suspected it’d bruise, even through the leather coat she wore. “Stop avoiding it. Tell me if you aren’t going to tell me. I’ll accept that. But please, tell me.”

“It’s a log of when Sloth first invaded.” Sayang clipped the words, speaking quickly. “Vesper’s journal.”

“He survived?”


	5. Reversing

Sayang’s eyes snapped open in surprise. That hadn’t been Az’s voice, or his words.

Az seemed oblivious to that fact. “Cassie saved me, though I still don’t understand how that worked, but I thought that Vesper was still there. I thought that the spaceships destroyed all of Shenkuu.”

Sayang stared at him, shaken. “What are you saying?”

“What are you talking about?” Az looked at her, confused. “I didn’t say anything.”

“It’s nothing,” Sayang whispered, turning and walking towards the palace. “Nothing at all.”

Az didn’t reply. She was grateful for that. She’d tell Keben about this, and if he wasn’t shaken, then he’d better explain to her why. This wasn’t right. It wasn’t right at all. But what would Az do once he’d heard Vesper’s story himself? What would he become then, if only mentioning it brought about this sort of change? Sayang shivered. He really wouldn’t be himself, then.

The palace was close, but even so, why wasn’t Az speaking? Normally, he’d be questioning her about something. Her avoidance of his questions, usually. He was silent at times, but not at times like this, when he had good reason to ask her questions. If whatever had been in his mind was still there...

Sayang tried to shake the thought off, but it wouldn’t leave. It stayed there, haunting her, as the palace gates came into sight, and the black and white forms standing there became visible. Keben and Invi, waiting for them as Keben had said they would. She quietly sighed in relief. Something, at least, was going normally.

Az perked up. “C’mon, won’t you tell me?”

“Shut up,” Sayang said absently. “We’re almost there, and you can wait few more minutes, can’t you?”

He sighed, but fell silent. There were still questions in him, of course, and now Sayang could feel them sitting there, just under the surface. That was good. It was normal. They approached Keben, and as soon as they were within a reasonable distance, Keben turned, sending his midnight blue cloak swirling. “Come,” he said, walking into the palace.

They followed him silently through the twists and turns of the palace that led to his room. Sayang knew the path as well as Keben himself did. She’d spent enough time walking to and from his room, after all. The few people they encountered in the pastel halls saw them, bowed, and then left them alone. Again, normal. All of it was. Sayang could almost forget her worries about Az, surrounded by all of this. Almost, but not quite.

Keben opened the door to his room and let them in. Sayang knew the rooms she entered almost as well as her own. She was certainly in both of them about equally, what with all the meetings Keben gathered in his room, as well as from just talking to Keben about everything from how magic worked, to what they would do after the war, to whatever silly topic that came to mind. Glancing around, she found the journal. It sat on Keben’s table, surrounded by other books that she didn’t recognize.

She doubted Az would notice it until Keben pointed it out. But no, he was looking straight at it. “That’s what you’re showing me,” he said. It wasn’t a question. And it bothered her.

Keben raised an eyebrow, looking at her. Sayang shook her head. It wasn’t her fault, as far as she could tell. “Yes,” she said. “It is.”

“I don’t need that to know the story.” Az turned away from them, his voice bitter. “It’s already inside me.”

“Val.” Invi moved forward, reaching up to touch Az. “Leave him alone. Let him understand for himself what is happening.”

Sayang looked at Keben, not understanding anything that was going on and not wanting to break the spell to ask. The Zafara was smiling. It wasn’t comforting.

“Oh, so you’re here too?” Az jerked away from Invi’s touch, though his hand quickly made its way to Invi in return. “What if I want a body again, Cassie? Ever thought of that? Ever thought about if our minds really would die if we gave up control of a body that we now have?”

“You have a body. But you need to share it with the Draik who was born into it.” Invi’s voice was quiet, almost pleading to Sayang’s ears. “We need him, Val. Why would you die if you just let him have control again?”

“Why wouldn’t I?”

“Because I’m still here, and the Eyrie is in control just as much as I am.”

Az bowed his head, hesitating. “Very well. I’ll explain to him what happened here.”

Sayang glared at the Dreamers. “Keben, why didn’t you do anything?”

“I had no need.” Keben picked up the journal, shrugging. “I suspected something like this might happen,” he admitted. “It fits with what Cassie said.”

“Of course it does,” Invi said. He was still looking at Az. “It explains a lot. Like how I knew that chant. Why Azimuth is the Drake. So many things.”

Keben collapsed into a chair. “It’s simpler now, yeah, but...” he waved one white hand, looking up at the ceiling.

Sayang stared between them, trying to figure out what they were talking about and whether or not interrupting them would be useful.

“But it’s still not simple.” Invi shook his head, turning to face them. “I didn’t even know what I was doing. How could it be simple, then?”

“Does it need to be simple?” Az’s quiet question, spoken in his own voice, made them all look at him. The Draik gave a half-hearted grin. “Well, does it?”

“Not necessarily,” Invi said slowly. “Anything involving time-travel is automatically complicated. And then you add in that we’re the hosts for people from the past, and it gets even more complex. In all rights, this shouldn’t be easy at all. But it’d be nice if it were.”

“Why’re you using contractions?” Az asked, his tone so aggrieved it startled Sayang. “You didn’t used to do that.”

Invi shrugged. “Is there any reason I shouldn’t use them?”

“No. It’s just...”

“I was avoiding them around you, yes. I see no reason to continue doing that now, however. It slows this down.” Invi flicked his wings, resettling them. “And this is something that should get resolved soon.”

“Before the winter snows,” Sayang said softly.

“Yes,” Invi said, his penetrating gaze turning on her. “Before the snows.”

Az sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I’ll help you guys with the Drake stuff. He’s in my head even now, y’know. He’s just not taking control like he did before. And he’s talking to me. It’s annoying.”

“You’ll need to put up with it,” Keben said. “We’ll need his power, once we begin the attack.”

Az nodded. “I know. I can ignore it, most of the time. He’ll help you guys as best he can.” Az looked at the journal, still in Keben’s hands. “Show me that. I want to see what exactly Vesper put in there, so that I know what you know.”

Keben offered it to him wordlessly, and Az took it from his white hands, already opening it. Sayang watched him. He read quickly, eyes skimming over the pages without pause.

She hadn’t wanted to read all of it. She’d given up after she knew how it would go. But Az was just standing there, nodding. He already knew all this. Why did he need to read another’s recollection? She watched him stand there, so like a statue carved of onyx or black marble. When it was over, he opened his eyes and looked at her. “I remember it,” he whispered. “I remember all of it.” He threw the journal at Keben, who caught it, surprised. “I remember the ending to that blasted story.”

He turned, leaving before any of them thought to stop him. The door slammed behind him, and then there were a few seconds of silence before Keben spoke. “Well. That’s certainly interesting. What shall we do with this?”

Sayang laughed harshly. “He knows more than we ever did. Now what? We use his knowledge of war.”

“And what of mine?” Invi said quietly. “I am Cassiel now, just as much as I am myself.”

“You’re going to help too,” Sayang said instantly. “If you look at the histories, Cassie was talked of as one of the best strategists of her time.”

Keben laid a hand on her shoulder, catching her attention. “And what if Az runs again?”

“Then we’ll chase him,” she said. “He won’t run forever.”

Keben sighed. “I wish we had another plan. But we don’t, do we?”

“We do,” Invi said. “We can let him go, and hope that he comes back and tells us. Hope that he comes back and leads us. He knows he needs to.” Invi smiled wryly. “Besides, we can just invade his dreams and lead him back to us.”

Keben laughed darkly. “If it comes to that, this is worse than I think.”

“Isn’t everything?”

“True enough. But now, at least, I have hope.”

“You always have hope,” Sayang said softly. “Always.”


	6. Revenant

“Get out of my mind,” Az said calmly. “You don’t belong there.”

 _Why should I?_ The Drake’s confusion was evident, even without anything more than his voice to go by. _You’re part of me._

Az laughed harshly. “No. I’m not. And Val, ask about taking over next time, please?”

_We are one now. Why should I have?_

“Because...” Az tried to think of a way to explain it to them. It was almost more annoying that they just didn’t get it than that they were in his head to begin with. “Politeness, I guess. It’s normal to ask permission before doing stuff like that.”

_We’ve done it before. And you did not ask permission before regaining control._

“I didn’t need to, since you offered.” Az sighed, looking up at the clear sky above him. Even here, there wasn’t enough wind to make it worth it. You’d think that the highest point on Faerieland would have plenty of wind, but no, it was a clear, still, day. “I’ll give you control when it comes time to fight. Yeah, you’ve taken over before, but I didn’t know what it was then. Now, I do.”

 _What’s the difference?_ It was definitely Drake talking this time, Az decided. Val knew better than that. _The end result is the same, after all._

“Get Val to explain,” he said wearily. “I’d like to sort through all the memories you guys gave me.”

_Must I?_

Az didn’t bother to reply.

Val and Drake’s voices fell to an ignorable whisper, and Az tried to forget about them. It wasn’t as easy as he wished it would be, but even so, it was possible. As he had told Drake, he was dealing with the memories they had given him. He was avoiding Val’s, though. His memories were filled with emotion, and not emotions he wanted to bear. Drake’s memories were easier. They were older, more faded, and didn’t make him feel like he was being sucked into them.

Val’s, on the other hand, were so real he could forget where he was. Even just thinking of them brought them back full force. Az opened his eyes, shoving away the memories and focusing on the sky. Sitting up, he stared over Faerieland. Val had only ever been here once. Drake had never known of it. It was his place so much more than theirs. It was real.

A dark spot caught his eye, and Az watched it approach. He knew what it was, of course. Invi, come to talk with him about Drake and Val. He wished the Eyrie had been the only one they’d gone for. But no, they also had to get him. The warrior who placed his faith first in technology and second in magic. But now he was being forced to talk to people who shouldn’t be alive, and that went against everything he wanted to believe.

Invi landed in front of him, mane ruffled from the wind, and the ends of his blindfold snapping. “Who are you?” he asked softly, words almost being carried away by the wind.

In any other situation, the words wouldn’t have made sense, but now, much to Az’s annoyance, they did. “Myself,” he said. “Who else would I be?”

“Val, of course.” Invi smiled slightly. “Come, Azimuth, don’t you think it was a question that had to be asked?”

“It did,” Az admitted, trying to ignore how odd the contraction sounded. “Why’d you come up here, anyway?”

“To talk.” Invi shrugged. “Did you expect something else?”

“Not really.” Az sighed, staring back up at the sky. The clear color and the chill wind that was blowing gently against him was enough to make it almost possible to ignore the soft mutterings of Drake and Val’s conversation. Ignoring Invi, however, was out of the question. Az kept watching the Eyrie out of the corners of his eyes, waiting for him to ask more questions. After all, if Keben had been here, he would’ve been asking questions until either his mouth fell off or Az’s head did.

Az smiled at that. It was a rather nice mental image, in some ways. Invi would disapprove, of course, and Sayang likely would as well, but that wasn’t anything new at all.

Eventually Invi spoke again, his voice still soft and almost blown away by the wind. “What is it like, for you?”

“Depends.” Az shrugged, turning to face Invi. “Val’s nice. Drake doesn’t know anything.”

Invi frowned slightly. “Two people?”

“Yeah. Two of them.” Az made a face. “Believe me, they’d be bothering me right now if I hadn’t told Val to teach Drake basic courtesy.”

“I never thought you would be one to do something like that.”

Az stuck his tongue out at Invi. “Anything else?”

“Yes. Come back down and act like yourself again. That’s Sayang’s request, by the way.”

Grinning in spite of himself, Az rolled to the side, falling off the tower he’d been perched on. He didn’t open his wings right away, ignoring Val’s shouts that he was going to kill himself. Drake was just laughing his head off, as was Az. The fall was dizzying, and he could barely see enough to dodge away from the palace as it began filling more space. Opening his wings at the last moment, laughter turning into gasps of pain, Az shot back up into the sky, pausing at the top for a moment before falling back down again in a much more controlled dive.

He landed, wings aching, on the same balcony he’d left from. It wasn’t very far from Keben’s rooms, which was why he’d taken it to begin with. But now he hesitated, looking up at the sky and searching for Invi’s dark form. Against the clear blue sky, it wasn’t hard to see. The Eyrie was coming down at a much more reasonable rate than he had. Az grinned, entering the palace and retracing his steps to make his way back to Keben’s room. Even running, he’d kept pretty good track of where he was going.

Walking through the pastel hallways, various people called greetings to him. It was rather surprising, not because they all knew him, but because there were so many of them. He hadn’t seen that many when Keben had led them up, or when he had run out. But then, he hadn’t been himself the first time, and he hadn’t been paying any attention at all the second. Not to people, at least. He’d kept track of where he was moving and nothing else. When he came to an open door, Az grinned and entered.

Sayang shot up immediately, a look of surprise on her face. Keben simply smiled. “I thought you’d be back,” the Zafara said quietly, rising. “Did Invidere find you?”

Az nodded shortly. “What do you know about Val?”

“Only what we told you already.” Keben shrugged, a slight smile still on his face. “You know more.”

“Not about what you need.” Az ran fingers through his hair. “Look, I have two of the best military commanders of past ages sitting in my head. I—”

“Two?” Sayang, not Keben, asked the question Az had been half waiting for.

“Yeah. Two. Val’s one. The other is a lot older.” Az shrugged slightly. “It doesn’t matter that much.”

“Are you so sure of that?” Az stiffened for a moment at Invi’s voice behind him. It was as soft as ever, but now there was a deadly quality to it that Az couldn’t quite place. “You don’t know history, Azimuth. Who is the other?”

“His name is Drake.” Az glanced back at Invi. The dark Eyrie was walking forward, the door closed behind him. “And he, like Cassie and me, is a Shadow Draik. I think he was the first, but I’m not too clear on that. His memories are all foggy.”

“Drake.” Nodding, Keben’s smile grew. “He’s a legend.”

“Not one I’ve heard of.” Invi sat down next to Keben, the Zafara’s hand almost immediately on his shoulder.

“Not like we got told many,” Az pointed out, sitting in one of the chairs scattered around the room. “Father was more interested in teaching us, and the gypsies never really talked about history.”

Keben shrugged. “It’s why first Cassiel, and then Az, got titled the Drake. Cassiel and Val should know the story.”

Sayang sighed. “For now, just tell me what we can do with the Drake-people. We’re going to need them when the battle begins.”

“That’s not for another couple of months,” Keben said absently. “Can’t we speculate now?”

“No,” Az said. “You can’t. Or at least, not with us.” He stood, glancing at Sayang. “We’re going to go train the army.” Without another word, he turned and walked out the door. He heard Sayang follow him, after a moment. As the door shut behind her, he could hear Keben and Invi begin to talk again. He sighed, glancing at Sayang. “Do they ever shut up?”

“Occasionally.” She shrugged. “Usually because they’re sleeping.”

“They’re dreamers,” Az pointed out dryly. “They’re probably talking even more then.”


	7. Reverie

Darkness that obscured sight was one thing. Darkness that obscured the heart and mind was a different beast entirely. And that, Invidere had decided, was what Azimuth had. A dark cloud that covered him and blocked his mind. Oh, it came and went, but that did nothing for the problem. The problem, of course, being the Drake and Val. Pacing back and forth across Keben’s room, Invidere thought aloud, occasionally stopping to check whether or not the Zafara was listening. Most of the time, he was.

Right now, he wasn’t listening, and he wouldn’t explain why. There was not anyone else in the room. Invidere could tell that without even trying. It was part of the gift of his sight. And Keben was awake, taking out the other primary reason why he would be distracted. It was quite frustrating. He suspected that sight, the true sight that most people had, would help. But no. All he had was the colors and the sensations of auras, and, though he knew almost everything about Keben’s, that didn’t help.

He was almost ready to just go and find the garden when Keben finally spoke up, sounding quite distracted. “Invi, say that last bit again.”

“Which bit?” he asked, too curious to ask Keben to use his full name, even though the nickname did bother him, especially coming from one of the few people who almost always used his full name.

“The one about magic and theories thereof.” Keben was excited, though his voice didn’t betray him. The blue-white aura that pulsed around him, however, did.

Invidere closed his eyes. Despite the fact that he couldn’t use them, it helped him concentrate. He began to talk, slowly at first, and then more swiftly. “Magic is a force tied to the Faeries. Without them, we cannot gain its power. Sloth’s invasion proved that quite clearly. In the world as it is supposed to be, there is balance, and magic is a free force that we are born with. Even when Sloth dominated and tried to destroy magic, it remained. You’re proof of that. Given a world where the Faeries and magic are trapped, the balance is disrupted and must be set to rights. But I thought you did that already,” he added, looking up at Keben.

“A year doesn’t change things that much,” Keben said absently. “Go on.”

Nodding slightly, Invidere did so, voice steady and even. “There are different kinds of magic, of course. Coruscatus has magic tied to earth and air, for instance: he can blend into the natural environments of earth, but invisibility is a power of air. If we’re tied to any true elements, the elements are light and air. Dreams aren’t really the province of any power, however, for they aren’t normal magic, which is tied to elements, with all that entails. Dreaming is different.”

“Yes. What is different, exactly?” Keben leaned back in his chair, the soft squeak a counterpoint to his frustrated words. “There’s not that much about it that can be different, is there? As you said, magic is tied to Faeries, and Faeries are tied to the elements.”

“Not all of them. The Battle Faerie and Space Faerie, for instance.” Invidere shrugged, eyes opening to the more colorful darkness of his mage-sight. “Not the traditional elements, are they?” He smiled slightly. “Azimuth is tied to the Battle Faerie, I believe. She probably fought Sloth and lost, by the way, since otherwise she would have helped you with your war and you didn’t say anything about her.”

“Explain.” One word, spoken quietly, and filled with such intensity that it said wonders. Keben didn’t want to show it, but he was interested and frustrated that he didn’t know this already.

Invidere smiled. “It’s simple. The elements of magic all blend together, with the more common elements showing up more often. But then you get Drakes and Dreamers, for instance, tied to the elements that don’t get bound as easily as the Faeries did. Take Azimuth and the Drake. Cassiel and Drake had similar powers. Why does Azimuth have them as well? I do not know, but he is bound to the Battle Faerie. So perhaps we need to find her to understand what this is all about.” He paused. “Of course, this might be how he’s supposed to be.”

“You’re serious about this, aren’t you?” There was an amused tone to Keben’s voice that Invidere couldn’t quite place, even with the colors to help. “How do you suggest we go about finding this Faerie?”

“You don’t need to.”

“How in all the worlds did you get in here?” Invidere asked, turning to face Azimuth’s chaotic aura. The taste of metal in his mouth was almost overpowering, and the electric power that seemed to radiate from the Draik itched.

“I walked.” A slight rustle and change in the aura, probably a shrug. “How else?”

“I think he was asking how you entered without him hearing you.” Keben was amused. Of course he was, Invidere thought ruefully. He probably hadn’t been startled nearly as badly.

“Actually,” Invidere said, with as much dignity as he could manage, “I was more wondering how I didn’t sense you.”

“Ask Val,” Azimuth said. “Or Drake. I’m not sure which of them brought me here.”

“Why are you here, then?”

Keben’s question cut right to the heart of the matter. There was no reason for Azimuth to be here, and yet he was. The answer was on Invidere’s tongue even as Azimuth replied. “Magic, I guess.”

“Not exactly,” Invidere said. “Though that’s close enough.” Preempting Keben’s request, Invidere held up a hand. “Give me a second to figure it out a bit more, then I’ll explain.”

Azimuth spoke anyway, of course. “What is there other than magic?”

“Auras, for one thing,” Keben said, heading off Invidere’s reply. “If they were tied exclusively to magic, then they would look the same to everyone.”

“How do you know they don’t?”

“Invidere showed me, once.” Keben shrugged uncomfortably, the movement of cloth and aura enough to make it obvious even to Invidere.

“Okay.” Invidere cut Keben off without bothering to ask. It didn’t matter. “Magic is elemental energy, right? Then there are things like how twins know where each other are – no interrupting, Azimuth – and like auras, as Keben said. Some part of you heard our conversation. Maybe some part of Val or Drake, actually. They don’t have a body they’re paying attention to.” Invi shrugged. “It’s not magic. Not exactly, anyway.”

“Okay, okay, enough with weird explanations. Any ideas about the Battle Faerie?”

“Sure.” Invidere grinned. “Find her swords.”

“And how exactly would I do that?”

“Using Drake, obviously.” Keben, at least, had caught on. “He’s got a tie to her.”

“I’m not a Dreamer. Are you forgetting that?”

“Nope,” Invidere said cheerfully. “Just hoping that you would.”

“Why?” In the one word, there was quite a bit of anger and frustration, Invidere noted. The steps closer and the hands on his shoulders helped with that impression, of course. “Why would you want me to forget that?”

“Because if you forget, then you could Dream.” Invidere paused. “Or you could ask whoever it was that said ‘You don’t need to.’ They seemed to have an idea of what to do.”

The Draik’s grip of Invidere’s shoulders loosened, going from bruising to merely tight. “You are insane.”

“Why?” Invidere asked, honestly curious.

“Because you say I can Dream. I can’t. Don’t assume things like that.”

“Ask Sayang about it, Az.” Keben’s soft voice calmed Azimuth’s prickling aura, and Invidere’s breathing calmed. “She knows just as well as we do. Or Set, if you want an extreme example.”

“I will.”

And without another word, Azimuth left. Watching him fade into the distance, aura still seething, Invidere couldn’t help but wonder where he was going to go. Probably back to where he had been before coming up here, which meant probably at the training grounds. Or Sayang. Of course, those probably amounted to the same thing, at this point.

“Any more theories on life, the universe, and everything?”

Invidere glared at Keben. “Not funny.”

“Funny. Because that’s what they are.”

“They are not.”

“Fine, fine. What element – or non-element – are Dreamers tied to, anyway?”

Invidere hesitated. “The Space Faerie’s, I think. Or air. It’s not exact, you realize.”

“I know.” Keben sighed. “But it helps a little to know what we’re tied to. What is the Space Faerie, anyway?”

“Supposedly, she’s Sloth’s nemesis. No idea what happened to her between my time and yours, however. Sloth probably figured out some way to neutralize her, though I can’t imagine what.”

“Does it matter?”

“No, probably not.”

“Then stop thinking about it.”

Laughing, Invidere stepped over to Keben. “What should I think about, then?” he asked.

Keben’s hand dropped onto his shoulder and rested there, a solid warmth. “How we’re going to get Az to win this war for us.”


	8. Revisit

“The Republic is planning something, Sire.”

Pariel-Sloth waved a hand listlessly. “They’re always planning something.”

“This time it’s worse.”

“It always is.” Pariel-Sloth glanced back at the mutant Korbat, antennae twitching wearily. “Stop making things up, Edward.”

“But, sir...”

The green Ruki turned back to his desk, ignoring the Korbat. The metal surface was covered in lights and panels, circular markings indicating what each was for. He had engineered every bit of it, including the code that kept any of his servants from understanding what it was for. He glanced over a particular section of lights; it was nearly time for her to contact him again.

“Sire, your Faerieland agents report that the Drake is back.”

At that, Pariel-Sloth’s head jerked up and he turned to face his clerk. “The report, please?”

Edward handed over his databoard wordlessly.

His thin green fingers tapped though the options as Pariel-Sloth sped over the report. “Fascinating,” he murmured. “Edward, please see to it that we are prepared for them,” he said, handing the databoard back.

The Korbat bowed, retreating from the room.

A low buzz filled Pariel-Sloth’s ears. He closed his eyes, a smile on his face. Reaching back to his desk, he brushed his fingers over the dials until he felt a certain pattern. An inch more to the left, and he pressed a small button. As it depressed, he turned to face his desk. One of the central lights dimmed, flickered, and then darkened entirely. Light filled his office, coming from an area not far in front of his desk.

Two forms appeared in the light. Recognizing them, Pariel-Sloth rose, his muscles tensing. “Fideus. To what do I owe the honor of this meeting?”

“Her,” Fideus said, pointing to the Faerie beside him.

Pariel-Sloth bowed slightly to the Faerie Queen. “My lady, why have you brought this irritant into my home?”

“Because he’s right.” Fyora sighed, seating herself on one of the hard metal chairs Pariel-Sloth kept in his office. “Everything’s about to come together. Eidolan’s back in this time.”

“Fideus, didn’t I tell you not to come here?” Pariel-Sloth said, wrapping his fingers around the edge of his desk. “You haven’t said anything new in the last few decades.”

“I promised you a hundred years,” Fideus snapped, crossing his arms. “Have you checked the date recently?”

The Ruki looked away.

“I thought so.” Fideus smiled, his silver-gray eyes sharp. “Time’s running out.”

“I will hold on to Neopia,” Pariel-Sloth growled, glaring at the spotted Lupe. “One hundred years of order were promised, but I can hold on to power longer.”

Fyora hit the floor with the base of her staff, the sound resonating through the room. Pink-purple magic coated the room, shimmering slightly before it faded away. “Don’t you understand? The Republic is rising. You can’t stop them anymore.”

“I can try.” Pariel-Sloth spread his hands on his desk. “I can keep them from taking my world away from me.”

“Time is a funny thing,” Fideus said. His voice was light, but Pariel-Sloth could easily hear the threats that lay beneath it. “It weaves its way through the world, a constant that is rarely acknowledged as such. It moves steadily, unless one of the Guardians decides to change it. Have you the power to run from time, Pariel-Sloth?” Fideus bared his teeth in what could possibly be called a smile. “I think not.”

Pariel-Sloth clenched his teeth, trying to resist the urge to choke the black-clad Lupe. “I could have the power.”

“You would never dare,” Fideus whispered.

“Are you so sure?”

“You forget something.” Fyora’s voice broke the tension in the room. Both Fideus and Pariel-Sloth turned to look at her. She smiled, rising from her seat. “For Vocivus to have power, I must agree.”

Silence reigned within the room. Pariel-Sloth stepped deliberately around his desk keeping his eyes locked on Fyora’s. Fideus stood apart from them, face completely blank, but hands fisted. Fyora herself held her staff as if she were about to fight.

Then Fideus began to laugh.

It was a soft sound at first, no more than a quick burst of air coming from his nose. Then Fideus began to smile, and the sound strengthened, the becoming breathy and low-pitched. As Fyora and Pariel-Sloth began to stare at him, the Lupe simply laughed harder, though it was only truly obvious by the sound and his expression.

“What,” Pariel-Sloth said slowly, “are you laughing at?”

“The future.”

“And what about the future is so extremely funny?” Pariel-Sloth asked, eyes narrowed and arms crossed.

Fideus shook his head, laughter echoing within the room.

“Answer me!” Pariel-Sloth lunged forward, grabbing Fideus’s throat.

The Lupe’s laughter stopped abruptly. “Are you sure you want to do this?”

Pariel-Sloth’s grip tightened in response.

Fideus closed his eyes. “So be it.” His voice didn’t seem effected in the least by having a skeletal hand wrapped around his throat tightly enough to choke most beings. He held out his hands, their pure white fur untainted by black or rusty brown. “Sollumin,” he said softly.

“No!” Pariel-Sloth shouted, thrusting Fideus against the wall.

The Lupe ignored him. His hands began to glow, white tinged with pure gold. The light spread to the other white parts of his body, shining through his tight black clothing. “Light of the sun, burning strength of the sky, chaos and laughter floating by. Light of the sun, warrior of the trine, everything comes and goes in time.” Fideus touched one hand to Pariel-Sloth’s arm, smiling now. “Sidereus.”

“Stop!” A second hand, just as bony as the first, reached for Fideus’s black and orange throat.

“Shining stars so far away, give us light on the darkest of days.” Fideus’s silver-blue eyes half-closed in bliss, meeting Pariel-Sloth’s dark and panicked ones. A soft glow began to rise from the orange on his body. “Shining stars of song and sight, grant us peace on the worst of nights.” The glow intensified, and Fideus grasped Pariel-Sloth’s wrists. “Vocivus.”

Pariel-Sloth screamed.

The sound was nothing a person would make. It was raw, drawn from the deepest part of instinct, where fear and self-preservation resided. Nothing of Pariel-Sloth was left in his dark eyes but fear and the all too present knowledge that, if Fideus wished, he would die.

“Heart of nothing that is the void,” Fideus said, removing Pariel-Sloth’s hands. “You will honor my words.”

“Enough, Fideus!” Fyora’s pink-purple magic blazed, filling the room with the scent of lavender. “You are not touching him alone with your power.”

Fideus blinked. First the white-gold glow faded from his fur, and then the burning fire. “Remember, O children of order,” he said bitterly, “remember that you are not the most powerful beings in this world.” He turned to the window that filled a full wall of Pariel-Sloth’s office. “I am.”

Without another word, Fideus leapt out the window, silver power coalescing around him. It flared a moment after he shattered the glass and began to fall, and he disappeared.

Fyora glared out the window for a moment before turning to help Pariel-Sloth up from the floor. “That was stupid,” she said, letting pale pink light flow over Pariel-Sloth and rejuvenate him. “He could have killed you.”

“You wouldn’t have let him.” As he spoke, the Ruki’s voice changed from a croak to his normal, powerful, voice. “You could have—”

“You know nothing!” Fyora slapped Pariel-Sloth, her delicate hand leaving distinct marks on his cheek. “Did you really expect him to be anything but power incarnate?”

“Y—”

Fyora slapped him again. “You used to be better than this. Both of you did. What happened?”

“I don’t know,” Pariel-Sloth muttered, rubbing his face. “Life?”

“You wanted rule over an ordered Neopia.” The Faerie Queen crossed her arms. “Do you like what you got?”

Pariel-Sloth considered the question, making his way back to his desk. As he sat, he spoke. “I like the result.”

“And the ruling?”

“I could do without some of that,” he admitted.

“You’ve had a hundred years of it,” Fyora said. “It’s about time you got a break.”

“You call Vocivus a break?” Pariel-Sloth hissed, voice taut with anger. “Do you understand what he means?”

“I understand more than you do.” Fyora turned to the window. The glass that had filled it was there again, the lines where Fideus’s impact had shattered it shown in a slight glitter of silver. She frowned. “And he understands more than any of us.”

“What do you expect?” the Ruki said bitterly.

“I expect for you to prepare Central for the Republic. They’re going to manifest soon, now that Fideus has called them. We must be ready to manifest. You still have the orb?”

“Of course.” Reaching under his desk, Pariel-Sloth withdrew a crystal very much like the one he wore on his neck. It was blue and gold, in the same style, and the only difference was that this one shone with red light as opposed to green.

“Sidereus will manifest first,” Fyora said, not turning from the window. “Once he does, you will shatter the orb, and I will shatter the pendant.”

“And then Sollumin and Vocivus will return.” Pariel-Sloth sighed, placing the orb on his desk. “I hope Fideus is happy with this.”

“He’d better be,” Fyora said, facing the Ruki. “He started this.”


	9. Revive

He stood on the top of his skyscraper, one blue-gold orb at his throat and another in his hand. His eyes were fixed on the stars so high above, shining down like drops of glowing blood from a giant creature’s body. Squeezing the globe gently, he closed his eyes to listen for a song he knew was there, echoing among the stars and the void between them.

He hummed, keying his notes to those he heard so far above him. A century ago, he had lived among those stars, been able to hear the star-song no matter where he was. Now he was stuck in his city of steel and glass where lights shone continuously, forcing the stars to fade from their full glory. He half-wondered if anyone city-born even realized what they were missing. The desert still had its stars; he had never chosen to force the shifting sands to order, preferring to leave one place for his sister to reign freely.

Wind cut against his clothing, piercing the thin layer of cloth he wore. He welcomed the cold; it meant he didn’t have as much time to think on the meaning of the song that drifted to his ears. Not that he needed to think about it; he had known what they mean from the time the first strains woke him from sleep. The blue-gold orb in his hand was cold, the raised lines cutting into his skin more effectively than the wind.

He raised it to the stars, admiring it. He almost felt sorry for what he would need to do this night. And he would need to do it soon, before the song woke another sleeper from his dreams. Unbidden, his free hand rose to touch the orb that sat at his throat. Soon, he would need to shatter it as well, shatter the one object that had allowed him to live through years of order, years that had seemed almost hopeless at first and become tedious by the time Fideus had reappeared, bearing the final pieces to a puzzle set in motion thousands of years ago.

The time had come; the hundred years Fideus had promised him were gone, blown away by the winds of time. Fate had preordained the events to come, yet he knew that even Fate could not be certain of what would happen when all of the world’s guardians were revived. Fate knew the pattern they would follow, of course. They all knew the pattern as well as the stars in the sky and the song therein.

First would be Change, brought back from stony slumber. Next would be Chaos, finally freed from captivity and longing dreams. And last would be Order, the first one with the ability to revive, to become what he was destined for. Yet Order could not break the pattern set into his blood, and so he had waited. He had taken his hundred years. He had frozen the Battle Faerie in stone, set her on the moon as a reminder. He had captured the Space Faerie in the same way he had once been contained. And now he would set them all free.

“Sidereus,” he whispered, eyes locked on the shadow of the moon. “Awaken.”

The stars already told him what had happened; their song changed from the ever-present cadence of waiting to a rising tune of joy. Sidereus was returning. He smiled, holding the blue-gold orb out over the seemingly endless drop to the streets below. The ruddy glow encapsulated his hand, and he sighed, letting go. “Sollumin,” he said, watching the bloody star fall. “Remember.”

He knew the moment the crystal shattered. The song changed again, and he saw a Faerie, half a ghost, flying up towards the clouds of Faerieland. The Faerie’s wings blended into the starry sky, her clothing enhancing the illusion that she were merely a scrap of sky fallen to earth. He reached out, almost trying to touch the Faerie as she sped by. He got no response but a glance given by eyes filled with searing fire. Looking away, he stumbled back to the center of the rooftop, not trusting himself at the edge anymore.

Spread out all around him were the other skyscrapers. Their windows still shone with light, creating glassy reflections of the sky above. The moving lights of his ever-watchful robots, red and green and blue, were more beautiful, if only because they weren’t a pitiful attempt to recreate other lights. And yet, it was still the white-gold lights his eyes were drawn to.

A deeper chill in the wind took his attention away from the windows and back to the rooftop. He turned, his eyes meeting the void of a ghost’s eyes. Pure black, deeper than even the places between stars, the Lupe’s eyes pierced him through with cold knowledge. The ghost smiled slightly, silver fur waving in the wind, paws firmly placed on the rooftop. “So you finally trust me enough to free me.”

“I was not the one to contain you, Eidolan.” He looked away, trying to dispel the chill that had sunk into his bones with the Lupe’s hate-filled gaze. “Fyora was.”

“She simply kept me contained.” The Lupe’s eyes bored into him, twin points of nothingness that he could feel without any effort. “Fate bound me. Fate denied me the sun that was mine by right. Fate stole my body and gave me nothing but hate and sorrow to replace it with.”

“And you think I don’t understand your pain, Eidolan?” He turned to face the moon, feet clicking on the metal roof. “Because of Fate, I live here, not among the stars that are my love.”

“You had a choice.”

“Not much of one.” He raised a hand to the faint red light of the space station so high above. His hand, skeletal and silver in the starlight, seemed so fragile now. “Fate chose to make it so that my own home rejected me. They said that since I ruled Neopia, I should be down here.” He lowered his hand, looking over his shoulder at the ghostly Lupe. “He didn’t have as much finesse in your days.”

“It’s been two thousand years,” Eidolan said, voice harsh and soft all at once. “Two thousand years, brother. Oh, I spent most of that time free, building the ghosts into what they are now, but then? Then Fideus found a way to bind me. And I’ve spent four hundred years like that. Nearly a hundred in the hands of the one who bound me. Then Fyora took me. Why do you think she was able to shatter everything, set me free?” He flicked his tail, silver sparks drifting from the motion. “A year in the possession of chaos. Do you understand how hard that was, brother? To be forced to live with my opposite, to help him harness the power necessary to bring them here?”

“I have some idea,” he managed to say. Eidolan’s voice wove a spell over him. It was velvet soft, but there was so much bitterness beneath it that it was hard to notice anything other than what the Lupe said. “But why complain to me?”

“Because Fyora is still up there, idiot.” The ghost shook his head, sending myriad silver lights flying away. “She will join us soon, true, but she wants to see what form the other two take.”

He caught his breath. “She knows the danger.”

“Of course she knows that.” Eidolan looked up at the clouds. “She just doesn’t understand how hard it is to wait.”

“She knows. We all know that.” He smiled slightly. “Fate doesn’t understand how we do it.”

“Fate doesn’t know as much as he thinks he does.”

He nodded wordlessly. There were no words needed anymore. They all knew what the other thought. Pariel, Sloth, Eidolan... the name given to their mind mattered not. Wind blew, and they turned to face it with a burst of laughter. She was coming now, gathering them into one being, readying them for the transformation to come. A star seemed to shoot from the sky, lavender-tinged and glowing, increasing in size as it neared them. “Welcome,” Eidolan said as it landed. “We’re ready.”

Fyora smiled, reaching out a hand. Pariel-Sloth took it. Eidolan stepped between them, his head encompassing their joined hands. “Vocivus,” Pariel-Sloth said. “It is time.”

The stars seemed to disappear. The lights of the city were meaningless. The wind blew around them, cold and comforting, wrapping them in a blanket of ice and snow. An agonized cry sounded from Eidolan’s throat, ripped and ragged and filled with agony. The globe sitting at Pariel-Sloth’s throat glowed, black and deepest purple-blue. Fyora’s eyes widened, their lavender depths suddenly aware of so much more than before. Her wings extended to their fullest before being torn away by the wind.

Fyora screamed then, the sound reverberating in the wind that surrounded them. Her body filled with light, and then the light was all she was. The globe burned still brighter, absorbing all of Fyora’s light. Eidolan’s cry stopped as suddenly as if a switch had been thrown, and his black eyes met Pariel-Sloth’s for a bare moment. Then Eidolan’s ghostly form joined Fyora’s light in being pulled into the globe, lavender-tan and silver joining the pure black in a swirl of color.

Pariel-Sloth grabbed the globe in one hand, the light shining through his skeletal fingers. With a whisper too soft for anyone to hear, he tore it from his neck and threw it to the ground.

Light burst from it, surrounding him, becoming him, painting him with color that he had never imagined could have been part of the void before. Pink and purple and silver coated him, Fyora’s wings finding a new home on his back. His eyes opened, his body changed only enough to support his new powers. Vocivus smiled, stretching his wings. “Time and time again,” he said, voice just as velveteen as Eidolan’s had ever been, “it is shown that chaos brings nothing but misery. Balance has a point, yet it is order that truly brings peace to a world.”

He leapt into the sky, spreading his wings to fly higher, to fly to the void that was his home.


	10. Reverence

The night was quiet. Walking through the mostly deserted palace, everything looked so different than it did in sunlight. Even the moon was dark, leaving the stars alone to shine down and light Az’s way. The Faerie-lights helped, of course, tiny balls of light at each corner and in middles of longer passages keeping the palace, if not the paths outside, lit as if the moon resided in each. Az shook his head, irritated. “Shut up, Val. Drake. Whichever of you it is waxing poetic.”

 _Why?_ Val was most definitely amused, much to Az’s annoyance. _Poetry is beautiful._

“I don’t want it going through my mind constantly.” Pausing at a window, Drake looked out at the night. Everything outside was clear, if dark. Without a thought, his hand was feeling for the latch, ready to open the window. Az hissed, pulling his hand back. “My body,” he muttered.

 _Ours too._ Drake’s soft hiss, made more of feeling than actual words, slipped through Az’s mind. Az shook his head, turning and walking down the corridor, hands stuck firmly into his pockets. He wasn’t going to give in to the others in his mind. Even if it was really tempting to just turn around, open the window, and fly out into the beautiful, comforting darkness. Though he paused at each window he passed, hands digging deeper into his pockets, each time he shook his head slightly before continuing on.

He didn’t have any destination in mind. Just movement. He couldn’t go back to where he had been before Val and Drake had forced him up to go talk to Invi. Things had changed in those short minutes, changed more than enough to make it unnecessary. The doubts that had driven him to the lonely isolation had disappeared, replaced by a sure sense of what was happening. No explanation, just silent knowledge that drove him to wander the night palace, alone in body but not in mind.

It was a whirlwind, in some ways. Drake smiled, shaking his head to toss back his mane of silver-streaked hair. The way they were all together and yet apart. And he, the eldest among them, was the least of them. Despite what he knew, he was the silent watcher in this, the one who knew the patterns and could see them playing out. It amused him. Never should he have been this way, a part of him said as he strode along. Never should he have been more than the hunter, the warrior that he was.

And yet, here he was, in a place that he barely understood. Magic, the only part that truly made sense, was the key to all this. Val had tried to explain, but even he wasn’t sure of how it had happened. He had told him that it was because there was a need for a warrior, a need too great for just one such as them. So they were all there, but not in body. Simply in spirit. In mind.

 _I told you, that theory doesn’t make sense._ Val sighed, shaking his head. _It’s not the way of the world. Can’t you understand it, Drake?_

 _It’s the way of my world,_ he said softly. _Can’t you understand that?_

_What are you guys talking about?_

Val and Drake both laughed, the sound profoundly irritating to Az’s ears. Mind. However this weird connection worked. “I mean it,” he said. “What’re you talking about?”

No answer, for a time, and then, Val’s clear voice. _Nothing you care about._

“You’re in my head,” Az pointed out, pausing at the door leading out of the palace. “Of course I care.”

 _Not about this._ Drake’s voice was almost a surprise, as quiet as he usually was. _Never about this._

“Shut up,” Az said, voice cheerfully belying the words. To his surprise, they did so, their voices going silent in his head. Or at least, too quiet for him to understand anything they were saying. He wasn’t quite sure which he preferred. If they were talking aloud, he couldn’t think. If they were talking now, and he couldn’t hear them, then they might be plotting. Banging his head on the gate, Az swore beneath his breath. He was getting paranoid about two people who shouldn’t be alive.

Slipping through the gates, Az spread his wings. The light of the stars was more than enough for him to see in, and as he lifted off the ground, his mind turned to the simple joy of flight. Flying up and up, ever higher, Az thought of nothing. Strong sweeps of his wings, each one both easier and harder than the last, brought him up into the upper reaches of the atmosphere. He didn’t notice. Eyes fixed on the dark moon, laughter sounding from his mouth, he just kept flying.

The wind that propelled him came from nowhere and everywhere all at once. His wings stretched to catch it, and his body felt nothing more than the soft warmth of sunlight against dark skin the color of space.

Perhaps it was a blink of the eye, a breath drawn in and then released. Perhaps it was a beat of his wings. Perhaps it was a full night, a day, a year, before the Draik touched the moon’s dusty surface. Perhaps it was the time it takes laughter to sound. Or perhaps it was the length of the stars and their song of sunlight and sorrows. It could have been a moment or an eternity, to the Draik. There was no time where he was, just the movement and the music that filled him with nameless emotions.

He moved with that music, following it until it faded away, leaving a sense of loss, yet also a sense of strength. There was something more than the music now, and it was right in front of him.

He opened his eyes. The gray-silvered landscape all around him was unlike anything he’d seen before. The closest he could remember was when Sloth had decimated Shenkuu, leaving little but ashes and rubble behind. He felt a sense of pride at that. They had been the only one to get that treatment. Shenkuu had stood strong, holding the mountains long enough to allow almost everyone to escape. Kneeling in the dust, he reached out to touch the objects that lay in front of him.

They should have been rusted. He knew that, and yet as he touched them, he knew that they could not rust. Looking up at the stars, he could feel the watching eyes upon him, though he could not say whose eyes they were. Picking the swords up from the ashes, he stood, raising them to the stars in a salute. “I shall not fail you,” he said, the words a promise that he knew he could not break. “I will take up your weapons and use them to defend all of Neopia. I swear this to your spirit, Valeane. On these swords, I swear to protect and shelter the world. To death and beyond, this I do swear.”

The final words were bittersweet in his mouth, and as he looked back at the rocks where the swords had lain, he understood what had happened. The rocks had the form of a Faerie, wings still outstretched, though shattered. The face, which he knew had been contorted in pain for the last hundred years, was at peace now, a slight smile on the mouth, sightless eyes gazing towards the endless field of stars.

Strapping the swords to his belt, the Draik opened his mouth and sang. It was the song of light and darkness, the song that had been sung at the beginning of the universe and still echoed through the world with the light of sun and stars. It was the song that Space Faerie sung to carry her through the endless depths of space. And it was the song he sung now to take himself home, to carry out the promise he had made to the spirit of the Battle Faerie who had fallen so long ago.

Spreading his wings, he lifted himself up on a wind spun of music and light. The spaces between stars could not worry him now; he was born of the stars and to the stars he would one day return. Light shone on him, velvet scales blending into velvet fur, and black hair turning star-silver. His eyes, once a dancing black, now shone like the moon: white silver, all else white. Only his wings remained unchanged; black as night, carrying the Halloween Kougra through the short space between Kreludor and Neopia.

He dove, still singing, to where his sister waited. It was time once more for Change.


	11. Reveille

“He’s singing,” Invidere said, raising his head from where it lay.

Keben sighed. “Why are you telling me this?”

“It’s so clear,” he murmured. “His voice isn’t like that.”

“Invi, shut up and sleep. Please. It’s too early to be discussing things like this.”

Invidere ignored Keben. The color of the song was pure white, with all the colors of the rainbow woven in. It wasn’t like Azimuth at all, and yet he was the one singing. There was no other way for it to make sense.

“Oh. I can hear it.” Keben sounded surprised. Invidere smiled a bit at it. Keben raised himself to a sitting position. Invidere stayed where he was, just listening to the sound. “Invidere? What is it?”

“A dream,” the Eyrie said quietly. “It’s the dream that created the world, and the lullaby that was sung at its birth. The song of the stars and the spaces between them.”

“Kidding.”

“Not.”

Keben’s hand ran across Invidere’s back, as soft and smooth as the clouds. “What’s he singing to?” he asked quietly.

Invidere turned to look towards the Zafara, barely able to see Keben’s aura now. “He sings to the stars themselves. He sings to the sky.” Pausing, Invidere focused on the colors of the music. “He’s singing to himself, too. But can’t you hear him call to you, Keben?”

“No,” he said quietly, sadly. “I can’t. But I can hear the longing in his voice. It’s stronger than anything I’ve ever imagined before.”

“It’s not,” Invidere said forcefully, claws digging into the Zafara’s leg. “It’s not. You’ve called like that before.”

“But it’s not the same.” Keben’s aura was swirling with deep blues and greens, pinks and red making stark contrast to the dark background of bittersweet sorrow. “It’s just not the same. You know it.”

His blind eyes were leaking tears, Invidere realized. And though the tears shouldn’t make it any harder for him to see, since his eyes weren’t how he saw, his vision was blurring, the colors running together.

“Invidere.” Keben’s hands were on his eyes, wiping the tears away as they came. “Don’t. Please, don’t.”

The Eyrie turned away, towards the shadows where no bright aura shone with sorrow and love. “I can’t,” he whispered, the words choked with tears. “I can’t ignore his call. Her call. Whoever it is that’s singing that song of sun and shadows.”

“Invi...”

“I’m scared, Keben.” Claws digging into whatever was under them, Invidere pressed closer to the Zafara. “By all the light in the world, Keb, I’m scared of what the song says.”

Keben’s own tears were leaking into his fur. “So am I,” he was saying. “So am I.”

Invidere closed his eyes, and, with tears and sorrow and the song of stars echoing through his head, Dreamed.

He dreams of space and of the endless fields of stars that cover it, each one a point of burning color and sound. Each one has a distinct note, and as they hum, the entire world is covered in a song so bright it has little color other than white, though the rainbow shards that form it still shine through. He is crying, he knows, and it is from the sheer beauty and joy of the color-song. His wings are spread, and each feather is touched by dewdrops that shine like the stars.

Azimuth is singing, even in the dream. His song is deeper than the stars, but it is the same endless song that never began and will never end. Dreaming, Invidere knows that he is singing, and that his song is pitched to the spaces between the stars, where there is no sound but his song. And as he sings, he hears it echo back, reflected by the nothingness. The echo is brighter, somehow, than his own song.

He turns to face the reflection, and as he does, the source comes closer. A bright blue-white streak, blinding even to him, soars through space. It pauses in front of him, and he catches sight of dragonfly wings made of nothing but space and stars caught in delicate webs. Eyes that reflect space look at him for one brief moment, and in that moment, Invidere understands what is happening. The Faerie touches him gently with one dark hand, and he bows reflexively, but the Faerie moves on before he even processes what happened.

He hears a sharp sound, and pinpricks of pain blossom all over his chest. Gasping, he wakes up, pressing a paw to his chest. The sunburst that has been there for so long is gone, broken into scattered shards. “Keben,” Invidere whispered, voice jagged with pain.

The Zafara was already moving. “Explain this to me later,” he said, cool fingers searching through Invidere’s mane to find and pull out the shards. “After I figure out exactly how much that hurt you.”

“Enough.” Invidere sighed, relaxing despite the pain. “If only because now Coruscatus is going to yell at me about not being able to go home anymore.”

Keben laughed, gentle fingers poking at Invidere’s chest.

Though even the Zafara’s touch hurt, the Eyrie found himself smiling. “She’s free,” he said softly. “So are they.”

Keben’s hands paused. “Who are?”

“My siblings.” Invidere could still hear their songs in his mind. Sollumin’s song was louder, coming closer. “The Guardians.”

“Who exactly are they?” Keben drew back, his pale blue aura shadowed with darker shades.

“Fate’s children.” Invidere stood up with a hiss of pain. His chest hurt. He wasn’t surprised at that. Without waiting for Keben to complain that he shouldn’t be moving, Invidere walked out of the room. He suspected that anyone who saw him would wonder what exactly had happened to him. The blood would show, even on his black fur. His eyes were probably glazed over, too, as the star-song was the only thing he could hear.

He began to move more quickly, strides elongating as he changed to an all-out run. He had to get the courtyard. That was all that mattered. Everything else could be dealt with there. His Sight was fast fading, leaving him with only memory and hearing to guide his path down to where his sisters waited. He could feel them helping him, guiding him as he ran.

He heard the song in his blood. He was part of the song, and the song was all that kept him from collapsing. He was the only one who could carry on the legacy, the only one who could keep the world in balance and let chaos have its say. He heard shouts all around him as he half-fell down a set of stairs, hurting himself all the more.

The magic-tinged stones of the faerie palace still shone in his sight, giving off barely enough light to penetrate the darkness of his mind. He was close, now. He knew he was close. Her siren song was straight in front of him. He strained for it, any semblance of vision he had once had gone as his being lost all concentration on anything but the song and the need to be at the singer’s side.

He was there. He felt his legs give way, but it was a distant feeling, almost as if it was happening to someone else, not him.

_No. You cannot fade._

But I want to, he tried to say. His mouth wouldn’t form the words, and he didn’t know if the singer could hear his thoughts, despite being able to transmit her own.

_You are the only one of us with a form, brother. Hold yourself together for just a minute more._

Invidere closed his eyes. The song wove through him. He felt each beat of his heart, the slow pulse that marked each second of his life, each moment that was trying to slip away from him. But for the singer, he would live. For the singer, he could heal himself, draw on the magic his father had told him he had, if only he chose to draw on it for more than just his sight. For the singer. For his father. For his heritage.

Opening his mouth, Invidere began to sing. His voice was deeper than the lightning-fast star-song that had woken him, but it was no less powerful. He felt the other singer’s joy at his voice, and as he sang, the pain in his chest faded away. His heart strengthened, and with it, his body. As he continued to sing, blind eyes staring up to the night sky, he began to see.

Pin-pricks of light, nothing more than dots that could be nothing more than imagination. Yet, as he lowered his gaze, turning back to the castle, he saw the palace in its full glory, pink and purple and silver, lit by clear gold lights. His song stopped for a moment, and in that moment, everything came together in his mind. She smiled. She didn’t need to keep singing.

Looking up into the sky, Sollumin found the black and white streak that was her brother and laughed. “Welcome home.”


	12. Requiem

“Invi!” Keben’s belated cry rang throughout the halls. It wasn’t all that hard to figure out where the Eyrie had gone; blood marked his path quite well. As his horror wore off, his mind began to work once more. He didn’t bother trying to find and stop Invidere using Dreaming. It wouldn’t work now. Invidere wouldn’t have enough mental stamina. That left simply running after him.

He began to run. He ignored the few people up at the midnight hours, brushing right by them. They stared after him, presumably still in shock at seeing Invidere. The Eyrie’s chest had been matted with blood. Keben’s heart clenched, and he felt sick. He doubted that even the Faeries had enough magic to heal a wound like that.

Keben pushed off a wall to turn a corner more quickly, leaving a red blot where his hand touched. He didn’t care. He could explain how exactly everything had happened to the best of his knowledge, but he would explain it to them later. Later being when he wasn’t worried about one of his best friends dying. The trail was clearer now; not just a few splatters but a thread. Ignoring the worry that threatened to choke him, Keben ran on.

Down a set of stairs that he didn’t quite know how Invidere had managed. Around another corner. To another. Then, nothing. The trail ended at a wall. Keben stopped, staring at the wall. Shock and worry blinded all other emotions, as well as anything approaching reason. He leaned against the wall, head hanging between his shoulders as he fought not to cry. The wall was warm beneath his hands, a stark contrast to the cold stone he stood upon. As his grief-filled mind registered that, Keben raised his head to stare at the wall, eyes narrowed to sky-blue slits.

“A Fae-touched jerk,” he growled. “That’s what you are.” Reaching out with his mind, he found the trail Invidere had used, a trail bound by the Eyrie’s own blood into the wall. Grabbing hold of the black and gold line, Keben pulled with all his might. The wall didn’t move. Neither did he. “Blast you!” he yelled, letting rage fuel the magic. This time, he moved. It hurt. Oh, it hurt. His head felt like it was going to split open, and his chest ached with a reflection of Invidere’s own pain. “You aren’t leaving me,” he hissed, yanking the thread once more.

The line burned his fingers, cutting into his bones. The pain didn’t change anything. Gritting his teeth, Keben pulled with mind and body alike, willing himself to be where Invidere now was. A blinding flash of light filled everything around him. Then he was outside, fingers bleeding steadily as he stared up at the night sky. He heard someone singing, and distantly realized that it was Invi. Slowly, he turned his aching head to face the voice.

Invidere stood tall, his once-black fur turned purest white, with eyes as gold as the sun. Beside him was a black Kougra with a Draik’s wings, moon-white eyes, and silver hair. The Halloween Kougra met Keben’s eyes calmly. Invidere’s song stopped, and his golden eyes looked down. The Kougra and the Eyrie exchanged glances, and then Invidere approached. He moved swiftly and silently, each stride taking him farther than it seemed it should. Keben didn’t move. He couldn’t move. Everything seemed distant, as if it was happening to someone else.

The Eyrie stopped beside him, setting a snow-white paw on his chest. “You shouldn’t have done that,” Invidere said softly, his voice sweeter than it had ever been before. “But what’s done is done. Let chaos run its course. You will live, but your foresight shall be gone. I believe that is a fair trade, and Father says there’s no need for you to bear his curse longer still.”

Keben’s head jerked up and down, almost as if someone was controlling him using puppet strings.

The white Eyrie smiled. “I thought so.” He – she? – pressed down on Keben’s chest, eyes glazing over slightly.

Keben closed his eyes, sighing as the pain left. He could feel that something else was gone too, but he didn’t mind that it was gone. It wasn’t important anymore, he knew. It was time to let his gift return to the one who had granted it to him.

Invidere’s paw lifted, and the sense of peace left him. Keben opened his eyes once more, looking at the two others in the courtyard.

“Sidereus,” the Eyrie said softly. “Who else is coming?”

“Sayang, of course.” The Kougra shrugged. “Really, I’m surprised Fideus let you heal him.”

“He had no choice.” The Eyrie inspected her paw. “Fideus wants his power back, and foresight most of all.” A pause. “Vocivus is forming now.”

“You’re sure?”

A withering look passed from the Eyrie to the Kougra, and the Kougra just laughed.

Keben pushed himself up, vaguely surprised that his fingers worked. “Who are you?” he asked. “I mean, you used to Invi, right? What happened to you? And who’s the Kougra?”

The Kougra, Sidereus, laughed. “I told you so.”

The Eyrie flicked a wing. “I never disagreed. Keben, allow me to wait until Sayang comes. I would prefer to just explain this once.”

Keben nodded, standing up. His fur was matted, he realized. Sighing, he glanced at the ground. The area he had lain in reflected the starlight, unlike the rest of the courtyard. He shuddered, partially from the cold, partially from revulsion. The Eyrie and Kougra simply watched him, matching smiles on their faces.

Soft footsteps from his right drew Keben’s gaze. Sayang stood there, wearing pants and her ever-present jacket, but nothing else. She held a laser, though her hand still rested at her side. “Explain this, please,” she said sharply. “Begin with Keben.”

The Eyrie sighed. “To start with, my name is Sollumin. The Kougra is Sidereus. You knew us as Invidere and Azimuth. Things have changed.”

Sayang nodded slightly, eyes locked on Sollumin. “So why’re you white and Keben bloody?”

“I was getting to that.” Sollumin sighed. “Fideus. Fate. Our creator. He called us last evening. I believe that Azimuth, that Sidereus, heard the call more strongly, for he rejoined first. That’s how he got those swords, by the way. They used to be the Battle Faerie’s. Anyway. Sidereus joined, and I heard his song. That woke me. I slipped back into dreams soon after, but then the pendant that brought Invidere, Azimuth, and Coruscatus to this time shattered.”

“And that’s part of why I’m like this.” Keben looked at his hands. “I followed Invi’s trail. It ended at a wall. I kinda followed, but the result was my hands getting ripped to shreds and sympathetic pain from Invi’s wound.”

Sollumin gave him a look. “I was talking, Keben. As I was saying, the pendant shattered. It tore through my chest, and did a fair amount of damage. But Invidere could hear his sisters calling. So he came running, knowing that he had to join and allow Sollumin – allow me – to come into existence.”

“By that time, I’d almost gotten back from the moon.” Sidereus ran a hand through his silver hair. “So I got to hear her transform, which I don’t think she remembers.”

Sollumin nodded slightly.

“And then that idiot came through the wall and Sollumin had to heal him.” Sidereus shrugged. “It’s not that—”

“Vo?” Sollumin said quietly.

Sidereus nodded, his hands resting on the hilts of his swords. “But he’s heading out to space. It’ll be a few days before he comes back.” His moon-blank eyes focused on Sayang and Keben. “You must prepare the army. You must be ready to attack before he comes back.”

Sayang’s eyes narrowed. “Why?”

“Because I will deal with Vo,” Sollumin said, “and Sidereus will deal with Fate, but you must complete the cycle and retake Central. It’s time for balance to be restored.”

Keben stepped over to Sayang, laying a hand on her shoulder. “We’ll do it.” When Sayang looked up at him, he added, “That’s the last thing I Dreamed. We will retake Central. I don’t know how, but we’ll do it. Sollumin’s right about how the battles will be divided. And Sayang...” he took a deep breath, staring into her dark eyes. “Will you believe me when I say that fate’s watching out for us this time?”

Sidereus laughed. “Fate cares about no-one but himself and his children, Keb. He won’t watch out for you.”

“He told us that we would understand why dreaming was a curse,” Keben said, glancing at Sollumin. “I understand it now. And fate has spoken in this final dream. Sayang?”

She took a breath. “I believe you. Let’s begin.”

Together, they turned back to the palace, ready to retake the world.


	13. Review

A sharp knock woke Set up. Groaning, the tiny blue Xweetok pulled her pillow over her ears. Everyone was always telling her to get more sleep, and now they wake her up in the middle of night. Wonderful strategy. Simply wonderful. Another knock on the door, and Set weighed her options. Likely, either something was going horribly wrong or horribly right. Sighing, she rolled out of her bed, landing easily. Stepping over to the door, she opened it with a glare on her face. “What—”

Keben and Sayang stood there, looking as if they’d been quietly arguing.

Set revised her question. “Why, exactly, did you wake me up?”

The Zafara and Kyrii exchanged glances. Keben winced. “Because Pariel-Sloth left Central.” He hesitated. “Okay, there’s more than that, but that’s one of the simpler versions.”

Set raised an eyebrow. “And why are you getting me up?”

“Because we only have a couple days before he returns.” Keben looked at Sayang, a pleading look on his face. Set almost smiled as Sayang shook her head. Keben sighed. “We’ll tell everyone the full version at the same time. I don’t want to explain it multiple times.”

“Who else?”

Sayang answered this time. “Just you, Coru, and Proteus.”

“What about Az and Invi?”

“They know the story already.” Keben ran his hands through damp-looking hair. “Come on. We got the rest of them already.” He turned, beginning to walk off. Sayang offered Set a half-hearted smile before joining him.

Shaking her head, Set bounded after them. “You had better have a good explanation for this.”

Neither of them seemed to notice her comment. She sighed, following them. They were speaking to each other quietly, and though she could’ve heard them if she tried, there wasn’t really any point. Anything they were going to say, they’d say in the meeting. Besides, they were likely just being their normal selves again.

“You can go ahead,” Sayang said, glancing back at Set. “We’re gathering in Keb’s room.”

Set nodded, silently passing them. They’d probably comment on her silence, but did it matter? They were up to something, and they may as well have something silly to wonder about. It was good for them. She grinned, springing forward into a run. As her body began to move more quickly, so did her mind. They had told her that Pariel-Sloth had left Central and had implied that Invi and Az were gone as well. And it seemed like there was some sort of connection between those events, though she had no idea what.

First, and most obvious, option: The darklings did something that ran Pariel-Sloth off. Unlikely, however, because Invi wouldn’t have agreed to the sort of stupid idea Az would’ve come up with. It was also unlikely because that would likely require more time than had been available. Set frowned. Keben and Invi had been holed up in Keb’s room researching something for most of the day. Az had been out of sight for most of the afternoon; enough people had asked about him for her to know that.

Of course, magic was an option when one considered who the ones involved were, but that told her nothing but that something strange was happening. Her mouth twitched as she rounded the last corner. There was almost always something strange happening, however, so that didn’t narrow it down much. She slowed to a walk, slipping inside Keben’s room. Proteus sat in a chair, looking at the books scattered over Keben’s table. Coru was pacing around the edge of the room, obviously rather irritated.

Set leapt onto Keben’s bed, nose flaring. She smelled iron. Sickly-sweet, hastily covered by some floral perfume. Set narrowed her eyes, turning back to the door. She stayed silent until Keben and Sayang walked through the door. “Why does your room smell like blood?” she asked quietly.

Coru’s footsteps halted. Proteus took a sharp breath. Sayang smirked, looking at Keben like she was saying ‘I told you so.’ Keben scowled, massaging his fingers. “Because the sunburst pendant shattered.” He pulled the door closed, locking it with a click. He stayed there, head resting against the pale wood.

Set glanced over to Coru, curious to see what his response to not being able to go back to the time he still called home was. The brown Kougra was still, but, in the calmness of his body, his expression was deadly.

“Don’t say anything,” Sayang said to him, voice harsh. “You’re stuck here because that thing broke, sure, but he says he can’t Dream anymore, and Invi’s gone.”

“Gone?” Coru blinked, and his fury blurred into fear. “What do you mean by gone?”

“I mean gone.” Sayang crossed her arms. “I mean that, as far as I can tell, Invidere has become something else. For one thing, he’s white now, not black. And that he transformed into Sollumin, apparently with the help of some spirits like Cassiel. Keben probably understands it more, but he—”

“Not really.” Keben’s voice sounded dull, and Set flicked her tail, badly wanting to go over and make sure he was okay. “It’s something more complicated than they wanted to tell us about.”

“They?” Set asked, tapping her foot against the floor. “Who is ‘they’?”

“Sollumin and Sidereus.” Keben turned, and Set winced slightly at his bloodshot eyes. He gave her a crooked smile, and continued. “Sidereus is... was... Az. He looks like a Halloween Kougra now. And, if the drawings that survived Shenkuu’s destruction and my memory are both accurate, he looks very much like Val.”

Set started asking a question, but Proteus’s calm voice resonated in the small space. “How does Pariel-Sloth enter this?”

“We were getting to that,” Keben said. He crossed his arms. “Sollumin said that they had joined, whatever that meant. Something to do with magic and that song, apparently. And Pariel-Sloth did the same, becoming a being they called Vo. I think that’s short for Vocivus, but I’m not sure.”

“Why d’you think that?” Sayang asked.

“They said that name before you got there.” Keben shrugged. “It doesn’t matter. What does is that Sidereus told us to prepare the army, because Vo was out in space. I promised him we would. And we can. We’re ready. Or at least, as ready as we’re going to get. Sidereus and Sollumin implied that they’d be in the area, but I’m not completely sure about that.”

“And they said something about a cycle,” Sayang added. “And that we had to complete it.”

Silence filled the small room. Set closed her eyes, thinking. Assume that they were telling the truth. It was unlikely that Keben and Sayang could both be tricked, and their words sounded like the truth. Working off of that assumption, then they would need to prepare the army and head down for Central. Pariel-Sloth hadn’t been the best strategist, but if he was gone, then his city would be in disarray. She opened her eyes, looking at Proteus. The mutant Scorchio nodded slightly.

Coru, however, spoke first. “You two are insane.” He shook his head, eyes and words filled with admiration. “But you’re also right. We need to do it. How long will it take to get down to Central?”

“Starting from dawn, a day.” Set’s tail twitched from side to side as she spoke, staring at the ceiling. “We still have the transports captured from the provinces. That’ll help immensely.”

“So we can do it.” Keben’s quiet comment caught Set off guard. “We really can do it.”

Set gave him a withering look. “Of course we can. We’re the Traitor Republic. We’ve fought against worse odds.”

Her words silenced the room. Set smiled. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to get some sleep before organizing this mess.” She hopped off the bed, walking past a silent Keben and down the corridors. By the time she reached her room, a single thought, a single word, echoed in her head:

_Checkmate._


	14. Revision

Sayang stared at the ceiling of her room. Dawn was approaching. She should be up and waiting at the army’s gathering square, ready to explain to them what was going on, but she wanted to just stay where she was. Sleep was out of the question, of course, though she hadn’t gotten enough of it last night. None of them had. Even after Set had left, Coru and Proteus had questioned them about what they knew. At last, Keben had ordered them out of his room, saying that he, at least, wanted sleep. The rest of them had agreed and gone their separate ways.

And then Sayang had gotten a couple hours of sleep before waking up and trying to process everything that had happened. That had been an hour or so ago. Sayang sighed and pushed herself upright. As she stood, she grabbed her coat and pulled it on. She left her room and started jogging down the halls and outside. The only other people up around dawn were other people in the army and some of Set’s planners. Sayang waved to both as she passed them, coat flapping with her speed.

As she left the palace, her jog turned into a full-out run. Wind blew her hair back, and she laughed, letting the wind whip the sound away. She wove through the streets easily, barely paying attention to where she was going. Her body knew the path, and her mind was free to think about other things, though right now Sayang was simply watching the dawn come, giving the world a golden glow. The final few corners passed without any notice, and she stopped in the army’s square, not even breathing heavily.

Leo waved. Sayang grinned and waved back. The green Pteri swooped down from his perch atop a nearby building, landing perfectly in front of her. “What’s the word?” he asked, bright gold eyes tracking her movement as she paced around the square.

“Word is, we’re moving out.” Sayang laughed at Leo’s shock. “Keb dreamt that we should go, and go as soon as possible. Called us together at an unreasonably early hour to tell us this.”

The Pteri nodded. “So Az is off on some crazy mission, I’m guessing?”

Sayang shrugged. “Something like that. I’m not completely sure where he went.”

“Probably avoiding the work of getting us all ready.” Leo grinned, spreading his wings and leaping into the air. “I’ll go rouse the army. There’ll be slackers otherwise.”

“Send them to the docks,” Sayang called after the Pteri. “Set’s probably got people readying the transports already. I’ll redirect anyone who comes here.”

Leo called back in acknowledgement, his wingbeats deepening as he sped back towards the palace. Sayang watched him go for a moment before returning to her pacing. Leo was right, annoyingly. Despite her insistence that the army come out at dawn, few people did so. She called them slackers. They usually ignored her. But they were all up within an hour, and she usually let that slide. Today, however, they needed all the time they could get. A predatory smile spread over her face. And that time would be spent traveling to the outskirts of Central.

Central would see them coming, of course, but that was acceptable. They wouldn’t be able to stop them. Set knew perfectly well how to stagger the transports so that the first ones were full of flyers, the second of those who could carry others in flight, and the last wave those who couldn’t fly and didn’t have friends to carry them. Even if they had enough resources to down the first transports, they wouldn’t be seriously impaired. Sayang made a face. She wasn’t the strategist; she didn’t need to care about all this.

Instead, Sayang pulled out a dagger and began throwing it in the air, spinning it end over end before catching it by the hilt. Each time, she threw it higher, watching it revolve. It shone, light reflecting off of the steel. She caught it as it came down, throwing it again as she began to move.

Running forward, she pulled out her other dagger. Catching the one she had been throwing, she dove to the ground, rolling. As she came out of the roll, she threw a dagger at one of the wooden targets set up around the square. Not bothering to watch it hit, she bounded to the side, zigzagging her way towards the target. She pulled the dagger out and whirled. A blade, shining like a piece of ice, came towards her face. Instinctively, she blocked it. A second later, she realized who wielded the blade.

“Sidereus, right?” She stepped back, sheathing her daggers. “Why are you here?”

“Why not?” The Kougra grinned, sounding so like Az that Sayang wanted to hit him. His winged Kougra’s body, white hair, and blank eyes belied the idea that it was indeed Az, no matter how much she wished it was. He shrugged, sheathing his own blade. “It’s not like I need to do anything until Vo decides to come back. Fate’s minding his own business; I think he wants us to converge on our own. He doesn’t need to do as much that way.”

“Why’re you talking to me about this?” Sayang turned away from the Halloween Kougra, beginning to pace around the edge of the courtyard. “It’s not like it changes anything.”

“I am the embodiment of Balance, child.” Sidereus’s voice echoed, though Sayang suspected his words were for her ears alone. “But I am also the embodiment of life’s Change. Sollumin is Chaos. Vocivus is Order. Stability. And then there’s our father. Fate.”

“Why tell me this?” Sayang spun, lashing out verbally. “I don’t care, blast it. All I know about you is that you were Az. Then you weren’t. Then you told us things that I can barely believe. But you were Az. You still are. I trust you because of that. But why are you telling me things that I could never have imagined two years ago?”

“Because you and Keben will be leaders in the world to emerge after this.” Sidereus sighed, twisting a strand of silver hair in his fingers. “Sollumin’s having a similar conversation with Keben. Who is, I might add, taking this better than you are.”

“Keben Dreamed. Do you understand what that means to us?” Sayang asked bitterly. “It means that he knew magic. You grew up with it. I don’t know what your merging thing is about, or what you merged with, but you were born with magic and you’ve known it all your life. I grew up in a world without magic, a world where technology ruled. Keben could touch what was left of magic. Keben could dream true. And now you’ve taken even that away.”

“Sayang...”

“Don’t act like you’re sympathetic. You’re not.”

“You don’t know me, do you?” Warm hands grasped her shoulders, and she looked away. “Listen to me, Sayang. I am magic. I am wind and fire. You and Keben... Keben is tied to wind, to air. You are, as your parents said, born from fire. I am life and protection. Do you understand me, Sayang? I know you. Do you want magic to return to Neopia? If you do, you will do as we asked. We can bring it back, but we need your help. You need to retake Central, complete the cycle.”

“And what’s that cycle?” Sayang crossed her arms and looked up to meet Sidereus’s haunting eyes. “You talked about it last night, too, but you didn’t explain why what we’re doing is going to help it.”

“The cycle is complicated.” Sidereus smiled briefly. “In essence, there is a pattern that shall always repeat, a tipping of the scales between Order and Chaos. I doubt Fate himself knows what the pattern is, but it’s there. I can see it easily. Despite the fact that the scales are of Order and Chaos, my ages are the ones where empires prosper. That is what will come of your retaking Central. Oh, in time it will turn back to Chaos, but that won’t be something you need to worry about.” He leaned down, planting a gentle kiss on the crown of her head. “Believe me when I say that, Sayang.”

Before she could say anything, the Kougra straightened, voice becoming brisk and businesslike. “Now, I believe your army all slept in, so Leo is rousing them and sending them on their way.” He stepped back, eyes turning towards the sky. “Sollumin has finished talking with Keben. He will meet you at the docks. Tell the army that Az is off scouting. They’ll believe that.” With that, Sidereus spread his wings, leaping into the sky. Silver light gathered around him, and he laughed, disappearing into the clouds.

Sayang stared after him, wondering what he had become. After a moment, she pulled her mind out of its daze, beginning to run through the streets once more. Next time she saw Sidereus she wanted to make him explain how he managed to be so nice and so irritating all at once. But that was a thought for later. Right now, all that mattered was getting to the docks and telling the army what was going on. She laughed, joy suffusing her body. Tomorrow was going to be so much fun.


	15. Revisit

Keben stood on top of the transport, eyes fixed on the horizon. His hands clutched the railing tightly, and his face was drawn. Beside him, Sayang was studying the ship they stood on. Keben barely glanced at her before returning his gaze to the horizon. The sun was low in the sky now, and the background thrum of the skyship’s engines was quieter. In the distance, he could see Central’s towers, dark and light against the sky. Sayang moved to be right next to him. “It looks so different now,” she said. “I don’t know if it’s more peaceful or what, but it’s different.”

“We have a different view of it than we usually do.” Keben grabbed Sayang’s hand without looking away from the horizon. “And we’re going to retake it tomorrow. That’ll shake things up.”

“Come on, Keb,” Sayang said calmly. “We’re going down. Now. It’s not good for you to be up here all the time.”

Keben closed his eyes, turning around. “Why d’you say that?”

“Because I know what’s up with you and heights.” Sayang squeezed Keben’s hand. “So I don’t like you being up here alone, and I need to go back down and check in with the troops. It’ll do them good to see you, anyway.”

“It’s not like I’m much use to you anymore,” Keben muttered, but he allowed Sayang to lead him back to the ladder. Sayang lifted the hatch, glaring at him until Keben shook his head and began climbing down. Sayang followed him closely. When she shut the hatch and the roar of the wind disappeared, Keben blinked. He’d forgotten how quiet it was without the constant noise. As he stepped onto the floor, Keben pulled his cloak off of the hook he’d set it on.

Clasping the cloak around his neck once more, Keben followed Sayang into the depths of the skyship. As the Kyrii exchanged words with everyone they passed, Keben withdrew further into himself. Sollumin had talked to him before they left. He’d said that Sidereus had talked to Sayang. Neither of them had mentioned it to the other. Keben wanted to. That was why he’d been up top. He just hadn’t been able to speak the words. Hadn’t been able to gather the courage to ask.

As Sayang circled back to the room they’d been given for the duration of the journey, Keben sighed. “Sayang?”

“Yeah?” She glanced back at him, opening the door.

“Sollumin talked to me around dawn today,” Keben said, following Sayang inside. “And he said that Sidereus talked to you.”

“Yeah.” Sayang sat on the bunk, absently twisting a strand of hair. “He did.”

“Well, what’d he talk to you about?” Keben closed the door, not daring to look towards Sayang. “Sollumin talked to me about magic and how it worked, mostly.”

“Sidereus...” The bunk creaked as Sayang shifted. “He told me that we’d be leaders in the world to emerge after this battle. He told me that we were tied to him. He told me that he is the embodiment of balance. He implied that after we retake Central, Neopia will enter a golden age. And—” she cut off abruptly.

Keben turned to face her, face carefully blank. “And what?”

“He reminded me of you,” Sayang said quietly, looking down at her now-clasped hands. “You if you were to be combined with Az. It was odd, to say the least.”

Keben sat down beside Sayang. “Sollumin was Invi,” he said. “But too warlike to truly be the same person. He spoke of magic and of how the world had stagnated in the time Pariel-Sloth had ruled. He said that we would need to cleanse the world of technology.”

“We don’t,” Sayang said fiercely. “Order and technology, right? That’d be Vocivus. Chaos and magic. Sollumin. It makes sense, right? You know what magic is better than I do, Keb, but doesn’t that seem right to you?”

Slowly, Keben nodded. “So what we need is a balance.”

“Yes.”

“That’s going to be difficult.” Keben leaned back, looking at the ceiling as he thought. “For starters, there’ll be more magic in the world. I think there’re still some mages out there. We need to find them and gather them in one area so that we can collect their knowledge and be able to teach the new mages when they start popping up. That’ll be one of the more difficult things to do in preparation. We’ll also—”

“Worry about that later, Keb.” Sayang stood, hands deep in the pockets of her coat. “We are going to go to the bridge. And we are going to stay there until we get a good idea of what Central looks like.”

Keben laughed, standing and opening the door for her. “Why do you care so much, Sayang?”

“I can’t stay still much longer without going crazy.” Sayang slipped out the door, heading straight towards the bridge. “It’s bad enough that we’re in a ship at all, but being stuck in a tiny room is torture.”

“Oh, and being able to see all the sky below us isn’t?”

Sayang shot a withering glance at him.

“Come on, Sayang. You said you knew why I went up there.” Keben grabbed her shoulder, stopping her in the middle of a corridor. “Tell me that reason. Say it, and tell me that being in the bridge isn’t torture for me.”

Sayang stared at him, her dark eyes wide. Silence surrounded them for the count of three heartbeats. “You want to fall.”

Keben released her, turning away.

“You want to feel the air rush by you,” Sayang continued, voice soft and deadly. “You want to feel that joy fill you, to know ecstasy the way only those gifted with wings can. You want to, but you know you shouldn’t. And so you find high places and hold on for dear life, because, despite how much you want to fall, you’re afraid.”

“Stop!” Keben whirled, a fist stopping just short of hitting Sayang. “Enough, Sayang. Those first words were enough. You didn’t—”

“Didn’t I?” Smiling, the Kyrii stepped up to Keben, whispering in his ear. “You still don’t understand yourself, Keben. You don’t know why the wind calls.”

“I don’t need to.”

“Really?” Sayang shook her head, placing a hand on his chest, right over his heart. “Or are you just trying to avoid your fear?”

Keben stared over her head, trying to calm himself down. “Dreaming,” he said quietly. “Before I started dreaming true, I would almost always dream of flight. I still do. Of riding the wind, being able to soar in the clouds. Sometimes I can almost feel those wings on my back. And then I want to spread those wings, to jump off a cliff and let myself soar. That’s why, Sayang. I don’t need to know why the wind calls; it’s so much a part of me that I can never forget.”

“Then you’re just going to live with it. The bridge is enclosed, anyway.” Sayang turned, grabbing Keben’s wrist, and pulled him along behind her.

She wasn’t going to give up on this, Keben knew. She was just going to drag him along until he stopped being called by the wind. He smiled bitterly. It wouldn’t happen, of course, but they may as well dream. Besides, dreaming might actually do something useful. If Sollumin and Sidereus were as powerful as they seemed, it shouldn’t be that hard. Assuming they wanted to, which he suspected they wouldn’t. Healing him and taking away his ability to dream was one thing. Getting rid of one of the few things he feared was another.

Sayang stopped at the bridge. Keben sighed, leaning against the wall. Even he had to admit that the view was impressive. In front of them, the other skyships flew in formation. But beyond those...

Central’s skyscrapers seemed to touch the sky. Each of them was a blade of defiance thrust to the sky, ready to guard Central against all invaders. Faint lights dotted the spires, white-gold against the silver-black. They were beautiful. They marked the place where he had grown up, a place that said it was free of oppression and fear. It wasn’t, of course. It was impossible for there to be a place free of those. But Keben could easily remember the looks of hopelessness he’d seen in the streets.

That was what Pariel-Sloth had brought. He may have given freedom, but if the cost was hope, the cost wasn’t worth it. He may have brought justice, but at the price of prejudice. He had brought technology, but destroyed magic. “What price survival?” Keben whispered, looking at the towers, so black against the pure blue sky. The price Pariel-Sloth had demanded was too much. And now they would finally be able to right his wrongs and create the society he had wanted to forge in the first place.

The skyships began to descend, turning towards the plains that surrounded Central. Keben kept his eyes on the skyscrapers. If they had been seen, nobody was doing a thing about them. He smiled. This was insane. But then, many of the best ideas were called insane until they worked. And this one, he had been promised, would. So he smiled, and watched the skyscrapers draw ever closer.


	16. Reversal

The void was the heart of nothingness. The void was his home. Vocivus spread his wings, trying to encompass the whole of space within his body. There was no noise out here. Not anymore. The song that had been sung at the beginning of time, and again when they had shattered, was gone, absorbed into their bodies. Vocivus traced constellations, marking out patterns he had seen at the beginning of time, still there, still shining in the void of space, where nothing happened that had not been begun years before.

He could still see the star Neopia orbited, a bright point of light no different from the million other stars that formed space. It had been a hundred years since he had been able to see even a true fraction of these; the lights of Central shone too strongly to allow the glory of space to be seen. Now, basking in the light of thousands of suns, Vocivus relaxed, truly relaxed, for the first time in a century. And yet, at the edge of his mind, there was that nagging thought that he should return and face his sister, fight for control of Neopia.

He closed his eyes. That didn’t matter. Not here. Not now. Here and now, there was only the pure cold of space, the vacuum that sucked life out of all lifeforms not designed specifically for space. Unless those lifeforms had magic, of course. A smile spread over the Faerie Ruki’s face. It had been far too long since this had been an option for him. The Faerie Queen had been able to come out here, but her duties had kept her on Neopia. Pariel-Sloth had been able to, until they ruled Neopia. And now he was free from it all, if he chose.

If. He sighed, turning unerringly back towards Neopia. His sister called to him, even when they were light-years apart. Sollumin’s song was as sweet as a nightingale’s, and it seduced him, attracting him despite his half-wish to stay away. His wings fluttered, and Vocivus began drifting towards Neopia. Slowly. Too slowly, with that song now all he could hear, all he could think about. He could picture Sollumin’s laughing face, white as the hottest fire imaginable, singing her song to the stars and knowing that her brother would need to respond.

Gritting his teeth, Vocivus spread his wings to the stars, beating them three times before he completely understood what he was doing. He paused on the next upstroke, soaring through space. A thought. That was all it would take, if he truly wanted to return to Neopia. A thought, a gathering of magic, and then he’d be there. He’d be with his family again. Darkness gathered around him, and he appeared above the space station that had once been his home.

The siren song was louder now. Vocivus looked down at Neopia. Central was in darkness, but it still shone as brightly as he remembered. It was almost like a cluster of stars taken to ground, especially against the vast darkness of the ocean. Faerieland’s light was softer, more natural, as if it was a moon was shining through fog. He sighed. Sollumin was singing from there. Of course. She always had liked the unpredictability of magic. Vocivus thought it was silly, but Sidereus had kept them from disagreeing on it too badly.

Up until the whole shattering, of course.

Shaking his head, Vocivus dove towards Neopia. As he touched the atmosphere, he let the heat of friction flow straight through him. He refused to use a true heat shield or simply teleport down, like his family would. He was of space, not of the world. Sollumin suited the world; it was as chaotic as he, most of the time. Sidereus had a fondness for the life here. And Fate would do what he wished regardless of what where he was. Vocivus angled himself more precisely, a slight smile on his face.

The heat burned the siren song away, giving him a brief respite, for when he came out of the dive, halting a few miles above Faerieland, the music returned. But that was acceptable. “Come and get me,” Vocivus whispered, looking down at the clouds and the pastel buildings that dotted them.

The song stopped. Vocivus smiled, seeing a piece of the cloud detach. He waited, watching the white dot grow as it flew closer. Soon, it was close enough for him to distinguish Sollumin’s shape. The white Eyrie stopped right in front of him, her eyes colder than usual. “Vocivus.”

“Sollumin.” Vocivus studied the Eyrie. “How long have you been waiting?”

“Too long, I think.” Sollumin drew a few wingbeats closer. “Sidereus would say that I’ve only been waiting a day, but even that is too long when I know that you should be with me.”

Vocivus retreated at the same pace Sollumin advanced. “I should.”

“You don’t know, brother?” Laughing, Sollumin moved right next to him. “You can’t find the patterns?”

“I know all the patterns I need,” Vocivus said, dropping down a few meters. “And none of them involve being anywhere near you, unless it’s for a fight.”

“Then fight me!”

Vocivus hissed, pulling his magic into a shield woven of light. “Not yet, my sister. There are some songs that have yet to be sung.”

“Such as?” Sollumin hovered just outside the shield, shadows gathering around her hands.

“Fate’s.” Vocivus disappeared, teleporting to Central. It was the one place he had claimed. He had power here, if he could tap it. He doubted he would be allowed to, but he knew the area better than Sollumin, and if he chose to hide, he could. He didn’t wait for the Eyrie to follow him; Vocivus ran, intentionally not using magic. He was on the Registry, of course. He had taken that precaution in the beginning. Sollumin wasn’t. He smiled, listening for the sounds of Sollumin destroying robots.

It didn’t take long, of course. The scream of rage brought Vocivus to laughter, especially as it cut off in the middle. So Sollumin chose to wait for Fate’s song to signal the beginning of battle. Vocivus sighed, walking through the streets. He doubted anyone would really take notice of him. Despite everything, there were a fair number of fae-touched in Central. And the people who lived here could take almost anything without blinking at it, anyway.

He pitied them. He always had, really, but now he pitied them even more. He had never intended for them to become this despondent, but their attitudes had shifted so slowly that he hadn’t realized until it was too late to change them back. And it wasn’t something he liked. Given a choice, he would have kept the smiling faces that had been here until his arrival. But no. He had said that any gathering spaces he couldn’t monitor must be destroyed. Parlax and his generals had responded to that order more quickly than he had expected them to, and within a day, all the parks were gone.

The children’s park was the only one they had allowed to grow back, other than the schoolyards he had ordered them to have. The adults dealt with the monotonous buildings, the steel structures and glass windows that covered all of Central. His cameras often caught adults lingering near the park, listening to the laughter that echoed out from beyond the bushes. Only there was the truth of history taught; he had heard the children’s legend of Summer Snow often enough to know that.

It was surprising how easily they could carry an oral culture. He suspected that the learning that took place at that park was more important to the children than anything they were taught at his schools. Actually, he knew it. Turning off onto a tiny side-street, Vocivus sighed. He had spent hours just watching the park, listening to the sounds of joy that were so rarely heard within the city. Even at night, the park was filled with children. He forced the park from his mind, shutting it out of his thoughts.

Opening a door that looked just like any other, Vocivus entered a series of passageways that he had known existed since the beginning of his rule. The Traitor Republic had taken them over, of course, and he had let them. One resistance that he could keep under relative control was better than twenty tiny points of chaos that couldn’t be killed. Following a series of turns he had memorized long ago, Vocivus smiled. Vesper’s Republic had grown quickly. He had allowed them to think him weak at first. It was good for them.

And it made it all the more satisfying to smash them over and over later, when they were strong enough to survive with nothing but determination. The final turns brought Vocivus’s mind fully to the present. The light that marked the Republic’s main gathering space shone in front of him, and he entered, eyes easily adjusting to the difference in light. There was nobody there. He nodded. Almost all of them had left after they’d taken Faerieland. But there would still be a few left...

He whistled. A small head poked out of a hidden door. “I come bearing a message from the Dreamer,” Vocivus said softly, looking the young yellow Cybunny in the eyes. “Tomorrow at dawn, the Republic shall attack Central. Warn the rest.” Without waiting to see what the Cybunny would say or do, he turned and reversed his course.

Sollumin would say he was being silly. Sidereus would say that this proved that he wasn’t all about duty. And Fate would just say that he knew that Vocivus had a good heart. The Ruki sighed, but he was smiling. Duty was duty, and he had promised himself that, when the time came, he would warn Central’s cell.

Or he’d just done a good deed, a part of his mind whispered. He ignored that part, continuing on his way.


	17. Revival

Dawn was coming. Fideus sighed, standing on the top of Pariel-Sloth’s skyscraper. Dawn was coming, battle was coming. There wasn’t much difference. There was almost enough light for him to call the fight. He glanced at the Halloween Kougra beside him for a moment, hoping Sidereus was ready, before looking back at the dawn. Light sparkled on the horizon’s edge, just enough to light the world, not enough to force it to chose between light and shadow. “It’s time,” Fideus said. “Val, go tell the Republic to attack. I’ll sing the other two to war.”

“Give me a few minutes,” Sidereus said, voice rough from hours of silence. “I’ll need to come back when you sing.”

The spotted Lupe nodded. Silver light flooded his eyes, but Fideus ignored it. He could feel the music beginning to flow, formed by the perfect balance that was fast approaching. He knew Sidereus could feel it just as well as he could. They both knew what was to come. He half-wondered how much the other two understood, but then the music surged, and Fideus began to sing. He couldn’t help himself, though he had promised he would wait for Sidereus.

His first few notes were hesitant and wandered away from the flow of the song. Then he caught it – or it caught him – and there was nothing left within his body but a voice and the song.

It was the song that had been sung at his birthing. It was the song that still echoed through the stars, bringing new life and new imaginings to worlds and races unknown. It was the song that had brought into being love and hate, joy and fear, and even chaos and order. And then, as a finale, it had brought balance. The song played through Fideus. Distantly, he knew that everyone in Central could hear his song, that it brought healing to many and destroyed the hearts of an equal number. It was a truth-song, coming from his mouth. And he sang to his children, telling them the truth of who they were.

As the last note died away, he opened his eyes to find Sidereus standing in front of him. “I’m sorry,” the Kougra said, holding a blade out hilt-first. “But we both know why this must happen.”

Fideus met Sidereus’s blank moon-eyes. “I’m just as sorry,” he said. Then he took the hilt, and his whole world spun. When it resolved, he was in the middle of the desert. Val – Sidereus – stood on one sand dune, and Fideus stood on another. The sword weighed down his hand, but Sidereus carried his lightly, a smile on his face.

“Come now,” Sidereus said, laughing. “You can’t have lasted this long without learning how to wield a blade.”

Shaking himself, Fideus pulled the knowledge from Sidereus’s mind. “I had my ways of avoiding violence,” he said, focusing himself entirely on the Kougra. “Fate, remember?”

Sidereus inclined his head slightly, slowly advancing on the sand. “It’s a disadvantage to know what you could do,” he said. “I want to react, but I still don’t know for sure what you’ll do.”

“Each action I could make relies on each action you could make, and vise versa.” Fideus matched Sidereus’s movement, moving easily on the sand. Tiny grains slipped under his feet, falling down the sand dune’s slope. “Foresight is a distinct annoyance now.”

“But we still know the general idea of what the other is going to do.” Sidereus leapt off his dune, flaring his wings for a moment before he landed in the valley between their dunes. His sword pointed straight at Fideus’s chest. “And we’re both too honorable to actually use magic against each other.”

Fideus laughed. “All too true.” He waited on the side of his dune, contemplating the black Kougra. “And we know that we can easily stalemate, and yet that bores us, so we continue to move despite the disadvantages we gain from movement.”

“You haven’t moved yet, though.” Sidereus grinned, his teeth bright against his black fur. “Scared?”

Fideus shook his head, leaping down to join his opponent. “Is it odd that the entire point of this battle is to ensure that we cannot influence Chaos or Order?”

“Not at all.” Sidereus thrust his sword at Fideus’s chest, forcing the Lupe to step back. “We could easily tip the scales and unbalance the entire world. And that would go against both of our natures.”

Sword flashing in the morning light, Fideus advanced. Sidereus kept a smile on his face as he blocked, blade moving as quickly as the wind.

“You know, you suck at this.”

Fideus growled.

“Seriously. I mean, you’ve had longer than any of us to prepare. Couldn’t you see that you’d need to fight me one day?” Sidereus shook his head, batting aside another blow. “You’re Fate, for crying out loud. You’ve got to be better at planning than this.”

“Some things only came up recently,” Fideus said sharply, blocking Sidereus’s attack. “Like just how much Vo and Sol hate each other.”

“You didn’t guess that earlier?”

“Shut up!” Fideus swung at Sidereus with all his strength. The Kougra slipped to the side, redirecting Fideus’s energy into the sand.

“You still suck, though.” Sidereus laughed, slapping Fideus with the flat of his blade. “How about this: You can use magic, I can’t.”

“Not fair,” Fideus growled, turning to face Sidereus. “We can both use magic. Whether or not you do is up to you, however.”

Sidereus’s eyes narrowed for a moment. “Agreed.” Wind spun around Fideus, lifting the spotted Lupe into the air. “Not a good idea for you, but still.” The Kougra sheathed his sword, clasping his hands behind his back.

A blast of pure force knocked Sidereus over, and Fideus stood in front of the Kougra, holding his blade to Sidereus’s neck. The Kougra looked at it calmly, then spoke a word that brought fire erupting from the sands, covering Fideus. Yelping, Fideus leapt to the side, lashing out with another blast of force. Sidereus rolled to the side, avoiding the blast. Fire as white as snow coated his hands as he stood.

“This was Drake’s,” Sidereus said calmly. “Az used it more, I believe, but it was Drake’s. Val’s skill with a sword would allow me to beat you anyway, but this is more fun.” He slashed a hand to the side, and the fire elongated, forming a sword. He dropped his other hand to the side, and it turned into a shorter sword. “You remember the Shenkuuri, of course.” He smiled. “Remember who I am, Fate.”

Fideus cursed, dropping his sword to call up his own weapon. A spear – invisible but for the slight silver-blue shimmer of Fideus’s force – spun within Fideus’s hands, blocking Sidereus’s assault. The Lupe’s expression remained fixed, and near-invisible lines of force shone almost silver over his fur, spreading from his hands and blank eyes. “What price do you pay, when you live for an eternity?” he asked softly, advancing towards Sidereus. “I paid in memory. How much do you want me to remember, my child?”

Sidereus shook his head, blades moving like lines of starlight shining in the sky.

“I can stay like this, if I choose,” Fate said, spear stopping with its point at Sidereus’s throat. “Or I can return to being Fideus. Which do you choose? Which would you prefer to live with?”

The white fire disappeared. Sidereus’s green eyes stared at Fate’s silver-wrapped form, transfixed. “Fideus,” he whispered. “I understand him. I don’t understand you.”

Fate nodded almost imperceptibly, and his eyes closed. The spear at Sidereus’s neck didn’t move, but the lines of force faded. As the last touches of silver faded from his fur, Fideus’s eyes opened and the spear of force disappeared. He staggered backwards, slipping on the sand.

Sidereus stared at him for a moment before stepping forward to catch the Lupe. “Fideus?” he whispered. “Are you alright?”

Fideus shook his head, mute. “Memory,” he murmured. “It’s one of the things I control, yet I don’t have a full knowledge of it. Fate – Fate understand all that one can do with it. Don’t let him come back, please.”

Sidereus smiled. “I’ll do my best.”

“Good.” Fideus struggled to rise. “Now help me up and take us back to Central. Fate stole most of my energy, and I want to save the rest. And you won’t do anything about the other two with me like this.”

Sidereus nodded, gathering gray light. An eye-blink later, they were back atop Pariel-Sloth’s skyscraper. Above them, a purple and white ball seethed with power.

Fideus sighed, looking at them. They would never learn their lesson, not even if Fate himself intervened. But then, they wouldn’t be themselves if they did learn their lesson.


	18. Revenge

Sollumin woke to Fideus’s song. She knew the song, and with the first few notes, she had spread her wings, flying to the sky above Central. The dawn’s light cast no shadows. Sollumin looked towards the source of the song. Fideus stood alone, eyes closed as he sang. Sollumin spared the Lupe a glance, focused on finding her opponent. The sky was clear, without even clouds to obstruct the Eyrie’s view. Unless you counted the skyscrapers that Central was built out of, anyway. Sollumin glared at them. They were going to make this incredibly annoying.

Fideus’s song stopped. Sollumin looked down at him again, seeing Sidereus, in the form of a black Kougra, standing in front of the Lupe. A burst of silver light later, they were gone. Sollumin hissed, turning her eyes back to the sky. Still no sign of the Faerie Ruki. Sollumin rose in the air, looking down at the city. It seemed so quiet, with few people out on the streets, and few robots visible to her eyes. It seemed odd, even to her. Cities were usually more active than this.

She caught a glimpse of pink-purple darting through the streets. With a shriek, Sollumin dove, wings folded flat against her back. The wind blew through her fur and feathers, and her eyes narrowed, blocking out as much of the dust in the air as possible. As she neared the ground, the pink-purple blur refined into a Faerie Ruki. Despite the wind, Sollumin smiled. This was going to be easier than she expected, unless...

The Ruki looked up.

Sollumin began cursing as Vocivus spread his wings for flight. The Ruki took flight just as Sollumin pulled out of her dive. Vocivus darted around a skyscraper, and Sollumin followed him, still at a higher altitude. Windows blurred as she passed them, the edges of the towering buildings nothing but obstacles to be avoided. And Vocivus was better at dodging through them, blast it. Sollumin increased her speed, flying as quickly as she could towards her rival.

Vocivus’s form blurred, resolving into identical Ruki. As they appeared, they split off in opposite directions down a street. Sollumin growled, following the one on the right without any hesitation. Two corners later, it dissolved. Roaring, Sollumin turned towards where Vocivus actually was. Gathering her power, she sped forwards, crashing through any buildings in her way. Distantly, she heard the screams as the skyscrapers teetered, beginning to fall.

The crashes began to sound as she reached Vocivus. The Ruki was hovering in midair, shock on his face. As Sollumin neared him, however, Vocivus’s expression changed to fury. His hands began to glow with pure light, and wispy spirits gathered near him, their forms barely visible. “Insulting me is one thing,” Vocivus said. “Destroying my city is something else entirely.” He opened his hands, palms facing straight at Sollumin. The light shot out of his hands, spirits whirling around the lines of light.

Sollumin’s wings flared, and she halted in midair. Darkness gathered around her, arcing from wing-tip to wing-tip in a shield. The light struck it, refracting into all the colors of the rainbow as it rebounded, scattering into the air. The spirits slipped around the shield, but Sollumin blasted them with dark rays from her own hands. “Destroying your city is the first step to destroying you,” Sollumin said, meeting Vocivus’s starry eyes. “And that’s what I want to do.”

Vocivus laughed, tracing patterns of light in the air. “It’s an impossible goal. You do realize that, right?”

“Are you sure about that?” Sollumin flew forward, diving down at her brother. Shadows trailed her, their sources her hands and eyes, drawing into a point in front of her.

Vocivus spoke a word, and the patterns of light he had written flared, forming a shield around him. Sollumin struck it, and his shadows dissipated. Sollumin, however, kept going. She struck the shield with her hands, and it flickered momentarily. Sollumin screamed, her hands blistering from the heat of the white light. Vocivus’s face contorted in concentration. Whispered filled the air around them, melding together, but all speaking for the same purpose: to bring Sollumin into a rage.

_You do not belong here. You are less than nothing. You are pathetic, a weakling. You are a coward. Nobody cares about you. Nobody expects you to do what you say. Everyone thinks you—_

Sollumin lashed out, darkness sweeping over everything. Where it touched Vocivus, the darkness pulled out all the moisture in his body. The Ruki’s mouth opened, but no sound came out. A wave of pure hatred hit Sollumin, silencing the spirit-voices. Light followed the hatred, blasting the darkness away. It did nothing about the dehydration, however, and Sollumin laughed as she flew up, heading towards the skyscrapers she had broken. Their tops were nothing but rubble, and as they’d fallen, they’d destroyed more buildings. She surveyed the destruction, a smile on her face.

Light struck her in the face, and her smile disappeared. Rage replaced it, and Sollumin waved a hand at the steel buildings. Whole girders ripped out of them, flying up towards Vocivus. An incredulous expression flickered over the Ruki’s face, and he paused in mid-flight, extending his own hands to the girders. Rust seeded the closest ends, and as the metal neared Vocivus, it turned to dust. The guardian’s face was unreadable as he flew closer, pink-purple wings shaped like dragonfly wings. “I didn’t think you remembered that trick.”

Sollumin laughed, pulling more girders out of the fallen buildings. “And I didn’t think you remembered yours.”

Vocivus shook his head, rusting the metal without a thought. He kept advancing, starry eyes fixed on Sollumin. He didn’t try any tricks of magic but those that protected him from Sollumin’s assault. With each wingbeat he took, Sollumin’s flight grew more erratic and her shots grew wilder. When Vocivus reached his sister, he reached out with a hand and tapped Sollumin’s forehead. A drop of clear liquid stayed on the white Eyrie’s forehead as Vocivus withdrew his head.

Sollumin halted in midair, fear dominating her face. Then she grabbed Vocivus’s wrist. “Not the best way to transfer poison, brother,” she said softly. The clear droplet leapt from her head to the Ruki’s. “You forget what I control, simply because I cannot fight with it effectively.”

Cursing, Vocivus’s body flared gold for a moment. The strong glow faded, but a golden tinge remained. “Stop trying to dehydrate me,” he said. “It won’t work.”

“Who says that’s what I’m going for?” Sollumin smiled, her free hand tracing a line across the Ruki’s shoulder. A scrap of metal within her hand cut the skin, and as soon as the cut was made, blood began pouring out.

Crimson fought with gold for control, patterns playing out on Vocivus’s skin. The guardians, siblings in power, locked their eyes. Neither spoke, spending their entire focus on the powers they wielded. Neither of them noticed when they began to fall. Not until they were almost to the broken buildings beneath them. Then Sollumin cursed, letting go of Vocivus’s wrist and beating her wings against the sky. Vocivus took a second longer to recover, the crimson slit disappearing as he spread his own wings.

“We’re not getting anywhere,” Vocivus pointed out, but his voice was weak. “Can’t you just admit we’re too evenly matched to get anywhere?”

Sollumin smiled. Girders slowly rose up beneath her. “Tired?”

“Not too tired to beat you.” Vocivus glanced down at the girders. “Do you ever get bored of that trick?”

“If you’re tired, then don’t block them.” Sollumin pulled the girders up, sending them flying at Vocivus. “It’s not like I’d care.”

Hissing, Vocivus slipped between the girders, not bothering to rust them.

Sollumin waved, and the girders came flying back.

Vocivus turned. He threw a hand up in front of his face, and rust disintegrated the metal right in front of him. It did nothing to stop the girders from hitting his wings. The Faerie Ruki fell, golden light playing over his wings. Sollumin hesitated for a moment before tossing the girders aside and diving at her brother. Vocivus stared up at her, starry eyes wide for a second before turning pure white. At the same time, silver light flared beneath the Ruki. It resolved into a winged black Kougra with white hair streaming from his head.

Sollumin pulled up. The Kougra caught Vocivus gently, white eyes looking straight up at the Eyrie above. A slight smile, and Sidereus spread his wings, flying back up to Sollumin. Silver light threaded through with gold covered Vocivus’s body, and as the Kougra neared Sollumin, it spread to the Eyrie as well. “You didn’t need to force him to drain himself, Sol,” he said softly. “You could have beaten him without that. But this is who you are, I suppose.”

The Kougra sighed. “Heal, Chaos. Remember when it was the time of peace. Yes, you have proven that when my time as lord is over, you shall take the reins. But do not belittle your opponent; he ruled wisely and well.”

With that, Sidereus disappeared in another burst of silver light, Vocivus still in his arms.


	19. Revolution

“Wake up. It’s time to begin the finale.”

Sayang woke with her laser pointed straight at the speaker’s heart. The Kougra raised his hands, grinning. “Relax, Sayang. I’m only here because I wanted to let you have something of an advantage against Central. It’s my time to rule the world, and I can’t do that if you don’t win this battle.”

“What happens if we don’t?” Sayang rose, strapping on her belt and pulling on her coat. She glanced at Sidereus. He seemed dumbstruck. “Come on. It’s not that hard of a question, is it?”

“I don’t know,” he said slowly. The Kougra ran a hand through silver hair, glancing upwards. “I think that Fate would win, in that case.”

“And if that happened?”

Sidereus shook his head, turning away.

Sayang placed a hand on his shoulder. “Do you know?”

“He would kill you,” Sidereus whispered, face hidden in silver hair. “Fate... Fate isn’t like Fideus. Fideus may not be the most reasonable person around, but he has honor. Fate doesn’t care about anything except what he has foreseen.”

“There’s something else, isn’t there?” Sayang could feel the tension in his muscles. “What aren’t you saying?”

Sidereus remained silent.

“Come on, Az,” Sayang said, frustrated. “Why not speak?”

Laughter burst from his throat. “Why don’t people use my name?” he asked, glancing back at her. “Fideus calls me Val, you call me Az. You I’m not surprised about, at least. You really did like him.”

Sayang nodded. “And your name’s a mouthful.”

“I don’t care. Just rouse your army, Sayang.” Light began gathering around him, and he stepped away from Sayang. “Tell them that you must attack now, before the robots’ controllers are roused.”

“What didn’t you say about him?”

Sidereus smiled, light flaring around him for a moment before he disappeared.

Sayang growled, stalking out of her tent. The sun wasn’t quite over the horizon yet. “Leo!” she shouted. The Pteri was always awake, it seemed. And always around.

“What, boss?” Leo fluttered closer, yawning. “And why’re you up this early?”

“Rouse the army.” She ignored the second question, crossing her arms. “We’re attacking as soon as they’re even vaguely organized. Going to get a jump on the flesh-and-blood part of Central’s army.”

Leo stared at her for a moment, beak still slightly open. “Are you crazy?”

Sayang regarded him levelly.

“Okay, okay.” Leo spread his wings, green feathered ruffled. “You need to help, though.”

Not a bad trade, in Sayang’s opinion. She began to run towards the nearest barrack-tents, letting Leo fly towards the opposite end of camp. With all luck, they’d finish their halves at about the same time. She reached the tents, stopped outside the squad commander’s, and told him to rouse his squad. She didn’t bother giving a reason, even though she was asked for one. She was too busy moving to the next set of tents. And the next. And the next. By the time she was done, she was utterly sick of telling people to get up.

Leo met her in the middle of camp, near the transports that had brought them to the outskirts of Central. “See why I wanted help?” he said.

Sayang gave him her vilest glare.

He laughed. “Keben’s coming with us, by the way.”

“No.”

“Too late.” Leo looked smug. “I figure that you should probably avoid the fighting yourself, and having Keben following you will give you the motivation you need.”

Sayang shook her head, beginning to pace around the cleared area. “You could’ve just asked.”

“You wouldn’t have done anything differently, though.”

Sayang sighed. Leo was right. Of course he was. She glanced around. The first squads were coming in now, dressed for combat. They all looked out of sorts, and most of them looked like they were still asleep. Too bad for them, then. She turned around, ignoring Leo’s amused look as she passed by him. The squads would be awake by the time they reached Central, anyway.

Two Unis landed behind her. A few seconds later, she heard the soft thump of feet on the ground as a rider dismounted. Sayang ignored the sounds, studying the squads. They were ready. None of them looked afraid. The flying squads, the ones that would reach Central first, seemed to be the most alert. Sayang grinned. She liked them. The land squads seemed to be the most exhausted, though Sayang really didn’t think they had any reason to be.

“Sayang.”

She ignored Keben’s voice, turning and walking right past him without a word. As she passed Cole and Connor, the brown Unis nudged her. She ignored them too, continuing to examine the squads. The squads weren’t hiding their amusement. She scowled at them, but that only made them smile more. Shaking her head, Sayang turned to look at Keben.

The white Zafara wasn’t dressed like he usually was. Instead of his flashy cape and brightly colored clothing, he wore silver-gray, with black gloves covering his hands. A nobleman’s sword hung at his side, and he carried himself like a true warrior, not the laughing dreamer she was used to.

He smiled. “You don’t know everything about me, do you?”

Sayang could only shake her head. “You do know how to use that blade, right?”

Keben laughed. “Nobles learn things that commoners don’t, including the use of blades, if they feel like it. I took lessons on and off throughout my life, but after I joined the Republic, I got serious about it. Now, would you like to order your troops off? I believe they’re all here.”

Taking a deep breath and putting off wondering how she had never before learned of Keben’s skill with a blade, Sayang turned to the army. A thousand or more faces looked back at her. “I’m not a speaker,” Sayang said simply. “I don’t have any particular gift for words. But I know what we’re doing. We’re going to attack, we’re going to fight, and we’re going to win. You all know your places. You all know how to do this. Go, and may—” she hesitated a second “—may the Faeries guide your blows.”

As the squads began moving out, Leo flying above them shouting orders, Sayang glanced at Keben. He hadn’t moved. Cole and Connor stood beside him now, the brown Unis sober for once. A smile spread over Sayang’s face. “Let’s go,” she said, running forward to meet Connor. The lighter of the Unis turned as she ran, and she leapt onto his back easily.

“Show-off,” Keben said, pulling himself onto Cole’s back. “Go. And try not to freak me too much, please.”

Cole laughed, springing into the air. Connor followed his brother a split second later. Sayang smiled, holding tight to Connor’s neck. The Uni rose higher, flying forward with the advance force of the army. Sayang saw them arrayed in front of her; all the colors of the rainbow soaring in the sky, their patterns as familiar to her as the stains on her coat. The motion below her, the steady rise and fall of Connor’s body opposite his wings, was soothing, and she glanced at the city they were assaulting.

There were towers falling. Sayang frowned. Why were towers falling? They didn’t have any demolition squads in there. Their group in Central considered of spies and non-combatants who liked Central’s lifestyle. Then she caught sight of magic and caught her breath. “Connor. Who’s fighting in the sky over there?” The Uni had better eyesight than she did. In this area, at least.

“I don’t know.” The Uni shifted his course, trying to get a better look. “Not faeries. Looks like... white and purple. I can’t tell you anyone else.”

Sayang caught her breath. Sollumin. And Vocivus, most likely. She didn’t know what that one looked like, but since Sidereus was black and silver, and Keben had said Fideus’s colors were similar, Vocivus was the only option left. That was interesting, to say the least. She tried to watch the combatants, but all she could see were the flashes of magic that erupted from them, which wasn’t interesting at all.

They were almost at Central, though. Connor dove, heading for the ground with the rest of the mounted troops. The flyers stayed in the air, heading straight for the swarm of approaching robots. A smile spread across Sayang’s face, and she pulled out a laser. Shooting she could do, even from this distance. Tracking a robot, she shot once. A second later, it fell. She ignored it, already finding her next target. Soon, the robots were falling from the sky like flies.

Then they landed. Sayang dismounted in a breath, pulling out her other laser and beginning to run. Connor followed her, sticking right at her side. He didn’t tell her that they should stay with Cole and Keben. That was quite nice of him, Sayang thought in the few seconds she had before she joined the front line. In front of her, robots of all shapes, but mostly of one size – big – waited. Sayang laughed. “Let’s go!” she shouted. With a roar, the front line charged, lasers firing.

And instant later, what had been a nicely defined battle line became nothing more than a chaotic mess. Such was the way of war.


	20. Reverie

Sayang charged them. Keben shook his head. He hadn’t even dismounted yet, and Sayang had already started running. Hadn’t the entire idea of him going along been to get Sayang to be somewhere other than the front lines? Cole began running, and Keben laughed, unsheathing his blade. It hummed quietly as he moved it through the air, and Keben leaned over Cole’s neck, careful to avoid hitting anyone with his sword. It was one of those incredibly expensive things that only nobles and members of Sloth’s security force had. An electro-blade, the best melee weapon available for hurting robots.

Cole ran through the lines without any trouble, somehow managing to dodge between the members of the army. Keben had no idea how he managed that, and barely cared at the moment. His blade pulsed in his hand, trace amounts of electricity finding their way through his glove. His whole arm tingled, and Keben’s smile broadened. He liked that feeling. It wasn’t one he’d been able to have often once he’d become Proteus’s assistant, but it seemed right to fight this final battle with a blade Sloth’s own officers had trained him to use.

They were almost at the front lines. Keben tensed, getting a better grip on Cole. The Uni leapt. Sayang called the army to a charge. Cole landed in the middle of it, head bowed and facing straight at a giant Grarrl-shaped robot. Keben winced slightly, rising in the saddle. The timing had to be perfect. A laser blast hit their target, and its head reared. Keben tightened his hand, reaching out to hit the exposed wiring as Cole ran past. Some of the wires broke. More of them got scrambled.

The robot went wild, and Keben heard the effects. He ignored them. A few cheers rose out of the chaos, and Keben smiled slightly. So they finally realized why he had come with them, then. Cole’s choice of their next target brought his attention back to the battle. A war tank. “You’re kidding,” Keben said, staring at it.

Cole shook his head, leaping over a rocket it fired. Keben cursed, ducking another blast as Cole danced through the myriad lasers and rockets being fired at them. He kept his grip on both saddle and sword, watching the tank. More blasts, this time from their friends, came towards them. As they hit the tank, Cole brought Keben alongside it. He stabbed the tank, cutting as deeply into one of the holes created as he could. As Cole kept going, Keben almost fell off, almost lost his sword. Neither happened, though his arm was yanked brutally.

Their next target was a cluster of Bori-shaped robots. Keben smiled slightly as they bore down on them. They were relatively simple to destroy, at least. His blade was sharp and strong enough to cut through the weakest points of their armour, which was remarkable all on its own. Keben slashed through two of them, and Cole trampled at least as many before reversing course to kill the rest of them. Keben glanced around, looking for a flash of red and brown within the battle.

Cole seemed to sense what he was looking for, and the Uni charged through the robots without any real target. Keben hit any that he could, doing his best to scramble or destroy them. Cole kept running, ramming into a vaguely Ruki-shaped robot horn-first. Keben cursed, trying to keep his grip as Cole went nearly straight through the robot. A piece of it hit Keben’s shoulder. The next piece hit his stomach, knocking the air out of him. Cole swerved around a robot, and Keben, still trying to get his breath back, slipped off the Uni’s back.

He rolled on the ground, somehow managing to keep a grip on his electro-blade. He came up stabbing, hitting a Grarrl-form robot in the back of the neck. It twitched once, and then fell over. Keben was already moving on, heading towards Cole. The Uni was cornered between a war tank and a bunch of Yurble-forms. Keben cursed, dodging another laser blast as he hit a robot. He wasn’t discriminating between their shapes; anything made of metal and wiring that stood between him and his friend was a target.

Keben ignored any threats to his own life, instinctively dodging. He was good at that. He’d always been praised for his speed and agility, though rarely for the actual sword-work, but his determination made up for that. He’d been top of his class, he remembered, slicing through two robots at once. It had made his parents proud, but he hadn’t seen why that was such a big deal. Now, he saw the use in those skills, hard-earned and so much a part of him that he didn’t even know half of what he was doing as he made his way towards Cole.

The Uni wasn’t doing as well, he knew. In the brief glances Keben was able to catch of his friend, Cole had tried to fly out of trouble, but gotten a blasted, probably broken, wing for his trouble. Now he was simply trying to dodge all their attacks. Keben growled, bulling his way past more Bori-forms. He caught them in a back-hand swing, scrambling their inputs more than actually destroying them. The flurry of blasts aimed not at him proved that his blow had worked.

He was almost to Cole. Cutting down another Grarrl, Keben ran towards the Uni. At the same moment as he got an unobstructed view, the war tank sent two rockets at his friend. Keben screamed. He didn’t know what he screamed, only that his throat was raw and that tears were running down his face as he destroyed the tank. He didn’t know how he did that, either. The Yurble-bots were easy. He knelt next to Cole, ignoring the fighting around him.

Most of the Uni’s right flank was a raw mess. Keben didn’t even bother trying to help him. He just looked at Cole’s face. The Uni didn’t seem to be in pain. Shock. That was the only emotion Keben registered. “Kill them,” Cole whispered, voice wet and strained. “Make sure they never do this again.”

Keben nodded, hugging the Uni for a brief moment. “Try to stay awake,” he said, rising. “I want to hear your blasted jokes again.”

Cole laughed. “Good luck,” he said, words fading even as he spoke.

Keben closed his eyes for a second, letting fury take precedence over the want to cry. Then he launched himself at the nearest robot. And the next. And the next. He kept going, not caring what he attacked or where he was. All that mattered was destroying the things that had killed his friend. All that mattered was making sure that nobody else lost their friends, that no families were forced to weep for the members of the Republic. There were tears in his eyes, hot and deadly. He didn’t let them rise. He couldn’t. To cry was to die, in this place.

Only when all he could see were robot scraps did he let himself cry, silent tears running down his face as he stood in the middle of devastation. His body hurt. His fur was covered with laser burns, and he even had a few holes in him, bleeding out into his white fur. He didn’t care. He couldn’t care. Everything was numb. Slowly, Keben sheathed his sword, turning it off. He pulled off his gloves, sticking them in his belt as he turned back to where Cole had lain.

The tears didn’t stop as he got closer. He hadn’t expected them to. Other bodies – too many bodies – lay on the ground. He recognized many of them. Dana, a squad leader always quick to laugh. Mort, a dark man with a wry sense of humor. Lily, who they’d all said was too sweet to fight. Yin, who fought like quicksilver. Avery, his rainbow feathers all stained crimson. Ulysses, whose skill with a blade was nearly unmatched. Mal, a technician who’d loved upgrading their weapons. So many who had died. So many who they would mourn. Keben reached Cole’s body, standing over it.

The Uni’s dark eyes were closed. His horn, a tan color that had always reminded Keben of wood, was stuck through the body of a robot. Keben smiled at that. Even half-dead, he’d managed to fight and win. Keben knelt next to Cole, running a hand through his mane. No blood there. It was all on his rear half, where the rocket had struck him. A hand rested on Keben’s shoulder. He looked up, meeting Sayang’s eyes. The Kyrii’s coat was even more ragged than usual, and the goggles on her forehead were cracked.

“What did you do, the first time you—?” Keben asked, his voice cracking as he met her eyes.

Sayang knelt, wrapping her arms around him. “I was useless for the rest of the battle,” she said. “You, though, you fought like the wind.”

Keben laughed, the sound hoarse and broken. “I don’t remember any of that.”

“You don’t need to.” Sayang sighed, smoothing Keben’s hair. “You’ll dream about this for years, though. You’ll remember every detail. You’ll find every way possible to prevent it, and rage at yourself for not being able to save him. And it won’t do you any good at all.”

Keben nodded, closing his eyes and leaning against Sayang. They stayed that way, supporting each other, as the sun passed overhead and other members of the Republic searched for all their fallen friends.


	21. Requiem

They had won. Sayang sighed, looking up at the sky. They had won, but at what cost? Beside her, Keben was silent. He had barely spoken since the end of the battle. Two days had passed since then, and only now had everyone been gathered to have a funeral for the dead. One of the massive squares Sloth had used for executions had been cleared and prepared with incinerators, and all of the dead of the battle for Central had been piled atop them. Each of the dead was covered by a shroud of cloth, but nobody had cared what color got used, so long as they were covered, and the result was a garish pile of rainbow colors.

The Kyrii could see the surviving members of the Republic gathering around the square, most of them on rooftops or watching out windows, though some were in nearby streets. There was still an hour until Proteus arrived, and the gathering had begun at dawn, just after all the bodies had been laid and the incinerators arranged. Sayang had been here since sunset, unable to sleep. Keben had joined her at dawn, looking like he’d either spent the night in nightmares or too afraid of nightmares to sleep.

Neither of them had spoken then or since. They acknowledged each others presence, true, and the rest of the Republic did the same, staying away from them, but they couldn’t find the words to say or the courage to speak them. Sayang wasn’t sure what was the greatest factor in their refusal to talk to each other. She pulled her coat closer around her body, more comforted by the familiar feel than anything else. She had refused to have it patched. Not until after this funeral, this requiem for all that was lost.

Sidereus had come to talk to Keben the evening after the battle. Sayang had seen him briefly, but his blank glare had caused her to let him pass without asking any questions. She supposed it was nice of Sidereus to even let her see him, since he could’ve just teleported into Keben’s room. She didn’t know what the guardian had said, but when he had left, he’d spoken to her briefly.

“He will heal,” he’d said. “But he needs time. Let him be with Connor and his family. They can help him more than you.”

Sayang hadn’t replied, and he’d smiled and disappeared once more into silver light. Sayang shook her head, returning her gaze to the clouds drifting overhead. She hadn’t cried after the battle. She couldn’t let herself. If she started crying for one thing, it’d lead to another, and another, until she’d need to mourn everyone who had died since the first battle she had fought.

And she couldn’t do that. She couldn’t mourn them anymore. Couldn’t mourn her friends, couldn’t mourn those she’d cut down to beat Sloth, couldn’t mourn those she’d been unable to save. The clouds drifted by, peaceful and white, so unlike the emotions that centered in the square. Couldn’t mourn the fact that Az and Invi were gone and there was nothing they’d be able to do about it. And nobody knew where they were anymore. Sayang had simply said that she didn’t know, last time she’d been asked. That had stopped the questions. And nobody dared ask Keben about Invi.

In the clouds above, Sayang saw silver light. She frowned, focusing on it. A black shape appeared in the midst of the silver. “Sidereus?” she whispered, looking at it. Beside her, she felt Keben shift. His hand gripped her shoulder, and she looked at him. There was fear on his face, though she couldn’t think of any reason for it to be there.

“Don’t talk about him,” Keben whispered. “Please.”

Sayang nodded, squeezing his hand. “You haven’t been yourself.”

“What’s normal anymore?” He laughed, shaking his head. “You haven’t been yourself either.”

Sayang sighed, looking back at the plaza. “I knew them better than you, Keb. I trained them, or they trained me. It didn’t really matter. We always had a good time, teasing each other for mistakes, poking fun at weaknesses, but always there to give a helping hand. And now they’re gone. I can name at least five people in there who were useless when it came to weapons-work, but never gave up, just because they wanted to be able to protect their friends.”

“Was it always like this, when you took back the provinces?”

Sayang closed her eyes, leaning against Keben. He was solid and warm against her, and she tried to block out sorrow. “Taking Faerieland... well, you were there for that one. We mourned, but there was so much more to be thankful for that we could forget, sometimes, how much we had lost. As we freed the provinces, it was always hard at first, but as the citizens realized that they didn’t need to follow Sloth’s laws anymore, they thanked us. They made us heroes. It got better. Why is this time different? I don’t know. Maybe it’s because this is the end. Now we need to recreate a government. Maybe it’s just because we’re tired and don’t know what to do. I really don’t know.”

Keben wrapped his arms around her, and they sat in silence, waiting the hour away. Sayang dozed, catching up on sleep lost in the chaos of the last few days. But when Proteus arrived, the relative silence was enough to wake her. She opened her eyes, looking down at his platform. The mutant Scorchio seemed to have caught the general melancholy, for his steps were heavier than they normally were. She watched as he stepped up to the microphone, hands resting on its podium.

“You all know what we’ve gone through,” Proteus said, his deep voice amplified throughout the plaza. “You all know that, by standing here in force without worry, we have accomplished the goal that the Traitor Republic was created for. One hundred years ago, Sloth took over Neopia. One hundred years ago, Sloth destroyed Shenkuu City, reducing it to rubble. From that rubble, a survivor emerged. One hundred years ago, that survivor, Vesperius Dajian-Amoure, created us out of the shattered remnants of the Shenkuuri who had served as Shenkuu’s elite force.

“The Shenkuuri were our role-models in those early days. Honor. Strength. Speed. Endurance. The last attribute became the one they revered the most: Endurance of Sloth’s reign. Endurance of hardship. Endurance of pain. Endurance of the time it would take to accomplish their goal.” Proteus sighed. “That endurance, that patience, brought us to where we are now. The Traitor Republic was named by Sloth himself when he acknowledged our presence. His honor allowed us to become what we are now, for if Sloth had wished, he could have destroyed us in the first days of our existence. But he let us survive.

“He let us survive. He let us grow stronger. He let us become his opponent, the only one he truly had. He lived a hundred years on his own. We survived a hundred years, though not on our own, changing leaders as the old ones wished to pass their duties on. I am Vesperius’s heir, his great-great-grandson of the spirit. All that I do, all that Nebrious has done, all that Arilla has done, all that Caprice has done, all that you and your own ancestors of the spirit have done -- it is all because, one hundred years ago, he forged the Traitor Republic.

“I do not need to list the trials we have overcome, the challenges we endured, the strife we have created and avoided. I do not need to list the reasons why each of you are here.” He smiled, looking around the silent crowd. “But to remind you, and all those who will hear my words in the years to come, all those who will remember what we have done this day, I will speak the words aloud. We came for honor. We came for freedom. We came for acceptance. We came for justice. But most of all, we came for love. We came to reclaim the world and place it within our loving hands, not the hands of those who would tear down trees, reduce mountains to rubble, and stain the oceans black.

“We came for the values of honor and justice, freedom and acceptance, for endurance and love. Those are values that we were charged with in our creation, the values of our Shenkuuri ancestors of the spirit, and we strove to be worthy of them. I, at least, think we have succeeded.”

He paused for a moment, and the entire plaza was silent for it. “Azimuth and Invidere, who came from a different time, allowed us to capture Faerieland and take the first step on this journey of conquest and reclamation. They became heroes in our eyes. I ask you all to answer this: What is a hero?” Proteus raised his eyes and voice all at once, looking around the plaza. “A hero does not need to be a legend. A hero does not need to be glorified. A hero does not need to be born high, nor does he need to be born low.

“A hero does not need to be anything other than a common person who, when presented with injustice, does his best to right it.” Proteus’s voice quieted, and Sayang could see everyone instinctively lean closer. “A hero does not need to be anything more than a brave soul in the right place at the right time. A hero does not become worthy of the title simply by being given it. No, a hero becomes worthy of his title when he sacrifices himself to save the lives of others. A hero becomes worthy of his title when he defends those who cannot defend themselves. A hero becomes worthy of his title when he does the impossible.

“You, the common people of the Traitor Republic, the common people of Neopia, common people who were simply shown a cause and given a chance to fight, did something two days ago makes each and every one of you worthy of being called a hero. You fought for freedom. Your own, that of your friends and family, of this city. Even, perhaps especially, the freedom of our shared world. You knew that you might not survive, that the risk was great. You came despite the risks, and you fought.

“Some of you died in this battle. Those who died did so to protect their friends and the fight for freedom. Those who died did so because they knew that they had to kill another robot, make sure that it couldn’t kill a friend. Those who died are heroes now, whether or not they were before.” Proteus closed his eyes briefly. “And we all grieve for them.”

His voice sounded choked as he continued. “We cannot change the past to bring back our beloved dead, so we must look to the future that they helped us create. This future is a future that shall now be free of as many sins as possible. A future where we will do our best to create a world where nobody cares who you are, so long as you are yourself. A future that will keep the world strong in peace, love, and joy. That, my friends, is what we strove for and now have the chance to create. Grieve for your fallen friends, but never forget all those who will be born into a world of love because of them.” Elegantly, gracefully, the mutant Scorchio bowed and left the podium.

Sayang closed her eyes, ignoring the applause that echoed through the plaza. Tears were leaking out of her eyes. She felt Keben wipe them away, and smiled at him, eyes open again. A burst of fire erupted from the plaza, and Sayang looked to the sky. Sidereus was up there, silver hair blown back by winds that she couldn’t feel. He waved a hand, and more fire, gold tinged with white, rose from the plaza. Sayang smiled, watching the black Kougra disappear in a burst of silver flame.

With friends like him, it was hard to imagine the future being anything but bright. Sayang hugged Keben, smiling through her tears. It was time to rebuild a shattered world.


End file.
